


Proficiency Theory

by Siknakaliux



Series: Custom Duel Noir Scenarios [3]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Kirigiri
Genre: Animal Abuse, Art Crime, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Murder, Cults, Detectives, Disguise, Forced Prostitution, Forgery, Gen, Genocide, Hacking, Harm to Animals, Kidnapping, Minor Character Death, Minor Character(s), Murder, One Shot Collection, Organized Crime, Phishing, Religious Cults, Scamming, Scams, Sex Crime, Terrorism, Theft, White Collar Crime, business crime, national crime, runaways - Freeform, swindling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:47:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29098284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siknakaliux/pseuds/Siknakaliux
Summary: Specialty-Based Duel Noirs.
Series: Custom Duel Noir Scenarios [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2059863
Kudos: 2





	1. Why Custom Duel Noirs?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an intro.
> 
> Oneshot scenarios are after this "chapter"

Now I get it, murder is a way to achieve Catharsis, blah blah blah.

But whats the use of the various specialties of the DSC when it's only going to waste on a pathetic murder? I mean, seriously. Sure the Duel Noirs offer the VCC some entertainment, but sooner or later the one concept's gonna be hella stale. That's when my ~~role of the VCC~~ ideas come in. Gotta mix things up, y'know?

Introducing.. _(Drumroll!..)_

Specialty-Based Duel Noirs.

But hold on. I know what you're thinking: _'But don't the detectives already solve their specialties? Why have a Duel Noir just for a specific specialty?'_

Good question. It's simple: To give out _more options_ to the victims. _(I'm a nice person when it comes to this kinda stuff, I assure you.. ~~So where's my invitation?~~ )_

Instead of just murder, which compared to normal Duel Noirs is **HELLA UNFAIR** to the victims,

The victim would pick a setting or the type of crime against their target or something, which _relates_ to the type of specialties in the DSC, and its all fair game from there.

Quite similar to normal Duel Noirs, except less stress (depending on the situation), less of a deadline ***** , less risks and more freedom. Decks are also customized depending on what specialty related crime you're going to commit.

 ***** Which I'll cover on as I go

...

You get the point. Alright, rules and regulation time..! Things are similar, but still _NOT_ as close to a normal Duel Noir.

  * The summoned Detective are of their own Specialty. Under no circumstance should a different specialist be summoned to a specialty-specific Duel Noir. If that happens, instant win to the Victim.

  * The summoned Detective are to solve the case _alone,_ and only alone. That's the only way they can hone their skills. If any assistance (external or internal) is used, then instant win to the Victim.

  * Speaking of Specialty, absolutely **NO** Zero-Class Detectives are to be summoned/involved in any way. If they are, then instant win to the Victim. If _ANY_ Zeroes appear in the 3 lines of a Detective's DSC card, consider summoning out of the question. Why? 'Cause its obvious, and it'll skew the entire custom Duel Noir up.




..And now onto the mechanics.

  * Unlike normal Duel Noirs, Specialty-Based Noirs are shorter in length. (4 Days instead of 7) This allows some urgency.

  * Right of Detective/Do No Harm does _not_ apply here.
  * Deck cost = Detective's Rank still applies, although quite different: In this customized scenario, The higher the spending, the higher rank of the assigned detective is.. And the lower the days needed for the victim to win.




Spending/Ranking/Time System goes as following-

[Rank] [Deadline]

9-7 .... 4 Days

6-4 .... 3 Days

3-1 .... 2 Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand yeah. That concludes my custom-introduced Duel Noir. For each scenario, I'll probably do some one-shots 'cause it'll be too much if I expanded it too much so uh-
> 
> (Where's my VCC invitation already?)


	2. [1] Religious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Religious Crime  
> \- DSC **1** 26  
> \- Rank 6

> _The following Specialist is summoned._
> 
> **_Suntetsu Shirasu_ **

"Your guardian is taking you to a 'prayer retreat'?!" His voice was found to be surprisingly shocked, not because of the sudden emotional burden of the nature of the request, but the predatory nature of it as well.

"I.. I don't know what's going on." They bury their head in their hands, the weight of guilt already telling more through their body language that it would with words. "She seemed so normal suddenly, and I have no clue what this retreat even is.. Since there's no proof or incident, no one can help.."

It's always _that_ telltale warning sign that's something's gone awry.. A promise of 'salvation', sudden trustworthiness, a questionable model of operation.. None of it made sense, but all together made it worthy to take a few risks for.

"We will go together.. It might be hard, but it's my duty to deliver cult members back to function."

...

"..Thank you for willingly inviting me to the retreat," Shirasu stays still at the driver's seat, scanning its area and occupants with the rear view window, an unexpected sight of not just the victim, but their guardian along with their friends as well, coming along for the ride.

"I'm surprised that you're interested in our retreat, you made the right call.." An older woman beside him grins, clutching her bag close to her chest. "You may also become the _chosen one,_ and receive salvation.."

That little sentence alone was enough to make him freeze in fear.. But as soon as the car started to head towards the destination, there was no turning back now.. As the sightings progressed from cities, to valleys, to sheer mountainsides, the area was slowly beginning to close off the more they drove.

* * *

"Welcome, _brothers and sisters.._ To Camp Eden." The guide stood in front of the group, grinning with a slightly unnerving aura. The surrounding area was stuffed to the brim with thick, overhead trees, little sunlight even reaching the ground. Broken, unkempt dirt paths that lead the way were slightly difficult to navigate, if not troublesome. As they lead the way, a seemingly normal sight greets the rest, yet to see the real events that unfold behind the scenes. As they near closer to some sort of gate, pickers nearby stop their work to stare at the newcomers, waving.

"Wait.. I think something's off." The victim whispers to Shirasu, exchanging a glace towards the plants. "Their _hands.."_ Upon closer look, the plants were unkempt, too noxious to even be considered safe to pick. Their hands were cut, but not as easily noticeable when walking.

As the gate finally opens, the worn down buildings of churches, chapels and trailers met their eyes, but even still some members were still smiling, oblivious to the environment around them.

"..The adults and youth will _split up?!"_

Both parties expressed major surprise when the guide called upon the rules, slightly restless and in doubt.

"To focus on worship," The guide grinned, clasping their hands together. "Leave your phones and any other devices in my care.. Lets go, shall we?"

Shirasu was immediately ushered away, but a burning plan flared brightly in his mind. _(If no one could contact them, I'm sure someone'll come looking. Just stay tight..)_

...

The dim, withered church hall was already filled with people, the simple sight alone weighing Shirasu down, helpless to do anything but stare. Dozens of cult members keeled on the cold ground, chanting loudly as the bell clangs, furiously banging their heads onto the concrete, no regards to their well-being. Various shills among other chanting are barely distinguishable, the commotion an utter strain on his ears. Every fibre of his being wants out.. But it seemed that the opportunity arrived in quite a strange fashion.

Feeling a small stone strike his back, he turned to its source to find one of the youth members signalling to him, already having escaped. He too, swiftly makes his way out to the unpaved pathway.

"Humans serving a dog as God.. Satan is playing a very wicked game." He hastily carries one of the members on his back, speeding through the buildings to avoid detection by distancing. "Apologies I couldn't save your mother, we'll get back to her once we escape first."

"Is there truly someone with proof?" One of the runners besides him ask, slightly on edge. "Can we really trust them?"

"Yeah, they claimed there's a way out." Another replied, a grin on their face. "They're a _journalist,_ after all."

After a bit of time spent running, it seemed that the designated location they've lead him to was secluded. A small, blanketed man huddled in the corner seemed to tremble in shock as he pointed at the air in front, stuttering in shock. "W-What did you do?.. The _leader!"_

Shirasu immediately turned around, shocked to come across the _cult leader_ in their presence, unaware that _they_ were following him almost silently.

"So _there_ you were.. Thanks for the tip," The cult leader grinned sadistically, immediately grabbing onto the nearest runaway, twisting their arms behind their back as they struggle. "Trying to escape from my _Paradise?"_

Shirasu immediately raises his guard as a group of snarling dogs inch closer to them, under the command of the leader, which orders the dogs to attack. The rushing ground and the sudden burst of pain is the last thing he experiences before his consciousness slowly flickers to black.

_"Those who released the criminal, shall be executed at once..!"_

* * *

He slowly wakes to his body aching, hands bound and mouth gagged. The faint voices now suddenly increase in volume as his daze departs, all chanting for their death. Looking around, the youth group shared the same fate, the victim also among the few. Beside them was a huge stone cross, the victim's guardian tied up across the limbs of the structure.

 _(If I would've been a bit more careful.. This wouldn't have happened..)_ Shirasu's swirling thoughts only weighed him down at this point.

"I remember these people, they all used to attend our church when we were young.." One youth member stares at the ground, her voice wavering. _"They_ converted hundreds of church goers, It was all carefully planned!-"

The cult leader suddenly grabs her hair in an attempt to silence her, dragging her out somewhere. The command has been given, and one of the youth's rage has spiked, their struggles and screaming only managed to knock out a few cult members restraining, but their efforts were wasted as they were soon overpowered.

 _"Only the innocent shall throw the stone!.. We all received salvation."_ A preacher shouted, raising their arms up high. _"First execution, Satan's dirty mistress..! Everyone, prepare to throw!.."_

Shirasu was at a loss. Everything that he worked so hard to perfect and protect, all crumbled down to sheer defeat.. But even so, there was something in him that simply refused to give in just yet. More than ever, _their_ lives were at stake.. It would've been catastrophic to his intent and situation for it to continue further. His brows furrow as he resists, managing to slip free of the binds with a little trick he's improvised with his sleeves. The stones fly forward, and so does he- Directly into the object's path.

The cold, sharp edges of the rocks dig into his fists and arms as he takes it all, every bit of pain compounding from the previous hits. The assault abruptly stops, with the preacher looking on in shock on what they're seeing. Sparing no time, with slight difficulty he undos the guardian's ropes, the rest of the group fleeing off to a safe space.

...

"Get the _hell_ out..!" One of the members viciously take down the remaining cult members inside one of the buildings, with the only entrance now sealed shut with a strong piece of metal twisted in between the bar handles. "The leader's room is right up ahead..!"

As the rest barge in, they were greeted by the sight of an abnormally large pack of dogs, glints in their eyes reflecting off the light flooding in the dark area. At the very end of the room, the cult leader's clothes are strewn across the floor, only their undershirt and briefs remaining. the female youth remains in their vacancy, struggling against their restraints.

"YOU!.." One's rage completely takes over their logic as they lunge forwards. "Release her at once-"

They only manage to get one step through, not before Shirasu violently jerks them back, narrowly missing a feral dog's pounce.

"The dogs only listen to _them!.."_ Shirasu's desperate reassurance barely manages to calm the attacker down.

The leader's grin widens as they reach into a bucket and toss in a chunk of meat towards the animals, with it being devoured in a matter of seconds. The captive uses this moment of distraction to bite down on their ankle, the simple action not yielding the response she wanted as the leader's rage only lead to her being kicked. _That_ alone reignited the attacker's rage as they pounced forwards, tone deaf to Shirasu's warnings. But it seemed that a shadow crossed the lighting for a moment, and in a matter of seconds, what used to be feral beasts now laid down on the ground, tame and ready for commands.

"Good. Stay.." The guardian steps on in, a bucket in her arms. "You are _not_ the messiah, you've only trained the dogs."

At this point the cult leader's animosity spiked, already desperate to cling onto whatever fickle power they have left. "I _AM_ the messiah!.. What're you gonna do about it?! Can't you see the dogs?!" Their hand reaches towards the bucket of meat but it gets tipped over, their plans already ruined. A splash of water immediately soaks them through, panic on his face spreading.

"I can hear you clearly." The guardian's voice is already low, stance steady as the dogs are provoked. "If you _are_ the messiah, they won't bite you."

Nothing but barks, howls and the screaming of the leader outshines the chaos, the ordeal finally coming to an end as they sprint out, met with the shining red and blue lights of law enforcement.


	3. [2] National

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- National Crime  
> \- DSC **2** 45  
> \- Rank 5

> _The following Specialist is summoned._
> 
> **_Shīta Enbi_ **

Enbi sat in his already deprecating getaway vehicle with the heater on full, huddling for warmth beneath the driver's-side window that wouldn't quite shut. An icy wind whipped through the half-inch gap, numbing his hands as he checked the .38 Special. He shoved the piece in his coat pocket, and then stared across the street at the mini-mart, the neon sign flashing red and blue in the night. It was the only store on the downtown strip still open this late.. All the other stores had their shutters lowered, tagged with graffiti like tribal markings. Through the window he saw the scrawny storekeeper perched behind the counter reading a magazine. He hadn't seen any customers since he pulled up outside, and already it seemed like they've given up their chase and decided to simply settle down. The guy was alone in there.. Just him and the culprit already backed into a corner.

Checking his reflection in the rearview, he gave out a pained sigh. He looked and felt heavy, finally sick with whatever bug was going around. Last thing he needed was to fail this Noir.. But he was already late on quite an important down-payment. If he didn't pay what he owed, then the flu would be the least of his problems.

He reached across the car to pop the glove compartment, fished out his lucky bandana. Black wool, trimmed with red around the edges. Dusting off the mask, he stuffed it in his jacket, as well as fishing out a spare cloth with his other hand.

He honked his nose into the rag, stuffed the hanky in his pocket with the piece, pumped himself up with a few wheezy breaths, and then he clambered from the vehicle and started crossing the street to the store.

The bell above the door tinkled as he entered. The cramped little store was divided into three narrow aisles, the shelves stockpiled like a doomsday prepper's bunker. Loud music was playing: Trumpets, drums and off-key warbling like a cat being castrated. The culprit glanced up from their magazine, eyeing the detective with a slight hint of mischief in their eyes.

On the counter beside him, a _'No Checks, No Credit'_ sign was taped to the back of the register. He cut a glance at the security camera above the cigarette rack— The very latest model.. From the 90's. If the damn thing even worked, the playback would be a blizzard of static. It looked like it was just for show, to scare off amateur robbers.

Not taking any chances of revealing his intentions just yet, he bowed his head and shielded his face from the camera's gaze as he sloped to the beer cooler opposite the counter. At the front of the store was a discount DVD bin and a half-price arsenal of fireworks for New Year's, the boxes all stacked in a pyramid like one giant rocket.

He glanced down the three aisles for customers or other employees. He didn't see anyone, just a lonely-looking mop and bucket in Aisle 2. The previous storekeeper was clearly no neat freak; The shelves were dusty, the goods caked in grime. The place could've used a good airing. It reeked worse than an old fleapit apartment, and that was smelling something. At the back of the store was the liquor display, a few ragged cobwebs clinging to the bottles, and a steel door marked STAFF ONLY. He couldn't hear anything behind the door, but it was hard to tell over the blaring music. Maybe the previous storekeeper lived back there with his wife and their litter of kids?.. The hell with it. They'd be gone before anyone even knew it.

With his back to the culprit, he sprawled on his bandana over his face and then reeled towards the counter, whipping the .38 from his pocket.

"I know your _crimes,_ pal! You know what this is!.." He shouted above the music. "Just give it up and I won't have to force you off the ground."

The culprit glanced up from their magazine as if he had only asked them to price-check an item. Seeing the revolver in his fist, their eyes narrowed. They rose slowly from their stool, raising their hands. Unlike his, they were steady as a rock.. They looked so calm, he wondered if they even saw through him.

"Oh yes, my _friend.._ I know what this is." Their voice was surprisingly mocking for someone in a compromising situation.

"Cease resistance.. It'll be easier for me, don't you see?"

The culprit gave a curt nod, well-versed in questionable etiquette. Lowering one hand, they reached slowly towards the cash register and pressed a button—

And suddenly they weren't there.

Enbi blinked in surprise, his mind somehow spinning despite having expected this.

The culprit just disappeared.

Peering over the counter, he saw a trapdoor— The door still swinging where the culprit had dropped down into the basement onto a mattress. Splayed out on their back, they glared up at him with a hateful grin. They then slashed a finger across their throat, before rolling off the mattress and out of sight.

"You damn little-" Enbi muttered-

And then steel shutters crashed down over the front door and window. The power went out, the store went black, and the music, even the hum of the refrigerators shut off, entombing the place in sudden silence. It took a moment for Enbi's eyes to adjust to the gloom. He stood gaping at the shutters in disbelief.

He'd never seen shutters like this inside a store before. He banged his fist against the shutters— Thick steel, like the treads of a tank. He lashed out with his boot until his knee buckled, and he hobbled back in pain. Feeling his skin crawl, he glanced up at the winking red eye of the security camera above the cigarette rack, shuddering as he pictured the culprit silently watching him. He scurried behind the counter, ignoring the register, the panic button now forgotten. Careful not to fall through the open trap, he searched beneath the counter for a button or something to raise the shutters. What the hell had the culprit pressed to drop the trapdoor?.. He couldn't even find a panic button. And now that he thought of it, why wasn't any alarm sounding?..

Crouching warily above the open trap, he peered down into the dingy basement. All he could see was the mattress where the culprit had landed.

"Get up from there, dammit!.. You've already lost!" He shouted down, anger in his voice. "Open these fucking shutters!.."

He could hear the culprit cursing under their breath. They sounded pissed, like this wasn't the first time they'd been held up.. But by chance, it would be the last. Then came the unmistakable shick-shuck of a pump shotgun being racked.

He darted back from the open trap. That's why there wasn't any alarm.. They planned to take care of business themselves.

Enbi looked despairingly at his .38. He never worked well with a loaded gun now that his time away from sharpshooting has practically decayed his skills. If the threat of dying wasn't enough, then this Noir wasn't worth it.. Better to walk away, find some other place to stick up.. Ideally with a culprit who had enough sense to do what they were told when you stuck a gun in their face. Until now, he'd thought he was being smart, pressing them into a standstill.

Shoving the now useless scrap of metal back in his coat, he scuttled down the aisles towards the STAFF ONLY door at the back of the store. If it was locked, he was screwed. He'd have to take his licks and beg them not to kill him. He was almost at the door when he heard the jangle of keys on the other side. He dove into Aisle 1 and crouched low behind the shelves, cloaking himself in the shadows as the door clattered open. The culprit emerged from the back room, clutching a shotgun bigger than they were. They paused to yank the door shut behind them, locking it from a key hoop clipped to their belt.

There was something funny-looking about them.. In the gloom, it was hard to tell exactly what-

Then they turned their head, and he thought he'd lost his mind. A giant contraption was sweeping the shotgun left to right across the aisles. He tried to blink away the nightmare.. Then he realized the culprit was wearing some kind of mask- No.. Not a mask. _Night-vision goggles,_ the lenses protruding from their head like bulbous amphibian eyes.

Tiny jewels of sweat glittered on the culprit's scalp. They began to sidestep slowly along the end of the aisles, their cheap leather shoes squeaking as they crabbed along— The shotgun steady in their hands as they moved methodically towards Aisle 1— Towards him, crouching in the shadows.

Panicking, he snatched a jar of coffee from the shelf in front of him, and then lobbed it over the aisles like a grenade. Glass shattered as it exploded on the far side of the store. The culprit pivoted with a squeal of their squeaky shoes. The shotgun roared, the blast punching a hole through the aisles and scattering stock, the deafening noise drowning out his sense of hearing.

They weren't fucking around.. They weren't going to rough him up or preform a hold down. He wasn't talking his way out of this catastrophe. There'd been no hesitation as the culprit turned and fired; That blast was intended to cut him in half.. They _really_ meant to kill him, rules of the Duel Noir be damned.

This should've been a quick dollar arrest. He wasn't going to play cat and mouse with a shotgun-toting maniac. Let the others deal with the crazy bastard.. He'd take their death, or his own failure if it meant he left this place alive.

He dug in his coat for his cellphone.. No signal bars on the display. He waved the phone about frantically, searching for a signal. Had the shutters caused some kind of blackout? He raised the phone towards the ceiling. A single signal bar flickered weakly. He listened out for the culprit. On the far side of the store, he heard their cursing as they found the shattered coffee jar and realized they'd been duped. They racked the shotgun and started back along the aisles, their shoes squeaking urgently.

Enbi monkeyed up the shelves in front of him. The flimsy wooden shelving sagged beneath his weight and his ears were still ringing from the shotgun blast. He could only hope that the culprit had also been deafened; That they didn't hear him as he slid on top of the shelving unit, disturbing a thick layer of dust that swirled around him in a cloud that prickled his fluey nose.

The culprit sprang into the aisle directly below him. When he saw the aisle was empty, they muttered out a curse, lowering the shotgun, and then adjusted the sweaty strap of their night-goggles. They were breathing hard.. Maybe even excited, enjoying the thrill of the hunt. They started stalking down the aisle towards the front of the store.

Flattened on top of the shelving unit, Enbi didn't dare move, holding his breath and fighting an almost overwhelming urge to sneeze. From the corner of his eye, he watched as the culprit crept along the aisle below him. They left his line of sight, but he was still able to track them by his squeaky shoe. He checked his cellphone again, and gave a silent prayer of thanks when he saw there were now two signal bars on the display. But before he could dial for assistance, he unfortunately inhaled another thick cloud of dust that set his nose ablaze—

The sneeze echoed through the store like a karate cry.

The culprit turned and fired without hesitation, the shotgun spewing lead. Enbi sprang from the shelving unit, shredded cereal boxes exploding behind him, a shower of flakes raining over the store. Slamming into the next shelving unit, he crashed down into Aisle 2, landing heavily on his back next to the mopbucket, his cellphone shattering on the floor beside him.

The culprit racked their shotgun and charged up the aisle towards him. Gasping for breath, Enbi could only flail his legs, kicking over the bucket. Sludgy gray water spewed across the floor and the culprit slid on the muck, already out of grip. They thudded to the floor and fired another deafening blast, plaster raining down from the ceiling.

Before they could recover, he scrambled to the nearest shelving unit. He slithered across the bottom shelf, clawing through a crinkling wall of potato chip bags, emerging into Aisle 3. Bracing himself against a deep-freeze refrigerator chest, he hauled himself up onto rubbery legs, sucking for breath. Through the gaps in the shelves, he could see the culprit in the center aisle, wobbling to their feet like a prizefighter trying to beat the ref's count. Racking the shotgun with a grunt, they began limping around the aisle after him, careful not to slip on the slick floor, one hand clutching at the shelves for balance.

He was still slumped against the deep-freeze, trying to catch his breath. The small of his back was screaming with pain where he'd landed on it. His legs could barely support him, let alone carry him away. Before the culprit rounded the aisles and spotted him, Enbi hauled up the lid of the deep-freeze. Hardly thinking about what he was doing, he slid inside the chest and buried himself among the frozen food packages. As he cowered inside the icy coffin, peering up in terror through the frosted glass, listening to the culprit's shoes squeak closer, it occurred to him that as far as dumb fucking ideas went, this was right up there alongside going a detective job unprepared.

The culprit paused next to the deep-freeze. Wheezing for breath, they steadied themselves against the refrigerator chest. Enbi stifled a scream as a hand thudded down on the glass lid. For a moment it seemed like they were staring right down at him.. Then they dragged their hand from the glass to wipe the sweat off their forehead. Frowning, the culprit glanced back down the aisle, maybe fearing their prey had circled behind them. They then moved on to the back of the store.

He waited until he heard the distant jangle of keys as the culprit checked whether or not the STAFF ONLY door was locked. They palmed up the glass door of the deep-freeze and eased themselves out, crouching down beside the refrigerator and listening intently. It sounded like they were doing another lap of the store.

This time, he would be waiting for the crazed maniac.

He scuttled to the liquor display at the back of the store. Forced to squint in the gloom, Enbi scanned the shelves for firewater, saw a picture of Speedy Gonzales on a dusty label, and grabbed the bottle of Arriba 100-proof tequila. Nodding to himself, he crouched behind the Aisle 2 end-shelf, and then peeked around the corner, waiting for the culprit to appear at the front of the store. He unscrewed the bottle cap, wincing at the screech of twisting metal.. But they didn't seem to hear. He listened to their shoes squeaking as they continued their patrol of the store. He necked a big swig from the bottle for courage, shuddering as the tequila burned through him. Snatching the rag from his pocket, he began stuffing it into the bottleneck until only a little cloth tongue poked out. He then pulled his Zippo lighter from his pocket and thumbed the wheel.

_(Click)_

The culprit's shoes stopped in mid-squeak.

The Zippo shook in his hand as he torched the rag fuse.

The shotgun roared. A tower of cans exploded on the shelf above Enbi's head. Sauce sprayed down over him, nearly snuffing out the flame. The culprit reloaded, feeding shells into the shotgun like a degenerate gambler playing the slots. He mopped the spaghetti sauce from his eyes and then leapt out from cover. They faced each other, daring to make a move. A tin of beans rolled like tumbleweed across the aisle between them. The cuplrit saw the Molotov cocktail in his hands, their mouth dropping open in shock as they started to raise the shotgun.

Enbi hurled the burning bottle, but then he watched in horror as it sailed harmlessly over the target's head.

The bottle shattered against the steel shutters behind him and burst into flames. The culprit stood silhouetted before a wall of fire like a frog-headed demon from hell. Oblivious to the danger behind them, they sneered at him as they aimed the shotgun, their finger teasing the trigger— As flames started licking the fireworks display.

There was a blinding white flash and then the fireworks boomed like Hiroshima. Instantly, the culprit became a human fireball, the blast blowing them off their feet and hurling them up the aisles like a missile. They sailed straight past him and crashed into the STAFF ONLY door, thudding to the floor like a piece of barbecue you toss to the dog.

The front of the store was now an inferno. Rockets ignited and screeched from the flames, setting shelves ablaze, the sound deafening inside the steel-shuttered store. The place was quickly becoming a death trap due the close quarters.

Enbi crouched beside the charred culprit. He took off his coat and smothered the flames of their burning cardigan. Wrestling the hoop from their belt, he juggled the red-hot keys, yelping as they scorched his palms. Wrapping his coat around his hand in hopes of easing the pain, he unlocked the STAFF ONLY door to reveal another locked door marked DELIVERY, and stairs leading down to the basement. He knelt in front of the second door and sorted through the jumble of keys, trying to find the key that would fit the lock—

Something squeaked behind him.

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the culprit staggering to their feet. Their face was already damaged beyond repairing, and the night-goggles were melted onto their head like devil horns. They propped themselves up in the doorway, smoke coiling from the scorched rags of their cardigan. Before he could stand, they lunged at him, slamming the shotgun across his throat, pinning him back against the door. The fire had fused the shotgun to their hands, and the melted flesh of their fingers were webbed across the stock as they started to exude pressure to his neck.

Choking, Enbi grappled the shotgun and shoved them back. They stumbled across the landing, tumbling down the stone steps and thudding onto the concrete floor of the basement. Landing on top of him, the culprit jammed the shotgun back across his throat and pressed down with all his weight. He spluttered and bucked, the key hoop in his hand jangling wildly as he flailed at their face before he slammed a long mortise key through the left lens of the culprit's night-goggles, driving it deep into the eye socket. He then wrenched the key in their eyeball like he was forcing open a rusty lock.

The culprit gave out a hog-like squeal. Their head jerked back, the keys dangling from their face like bloody jewelry. Gunk and liquid gushed from the shattered lens of their goggles, spraying across his face. Gagging, he hammered the heel of his hand against the key, burying it deeper in the culprit's eye. They shrieked, lurching to their feet and staggering blindly about the basement. Enbi scrabbled back across the floor, spitting fluid and heaving for breath.

The culprit crashed against a stock shelf, various items clattering and smashing on the floor around them. They reached up to remove the keys from their eye, before realizing they couldn't— Not with the shotgun welded to their hands. Their arms twitched pathetically. Once, twice..

Then all the fight seemed to drain right out of them. Their body sagged, and they slumped down on a camp bed parked against the cinderblock wall, the springs squealing like his squeaky shoes. Huddled on the bed, the culprit glowered at him with their one good eye, the other a ruined hollow of red and yellow liquid. They slowly raised their left knee. He watched in disbelief as they planted the sole of their shoe against the length of the shotgun and sucked a few shallow breaths.. Before they flexed their leg and the melted flesh of their palms ripped free from the stock, a sickening tear protruding the area. The shotgun clattered to the floor in front of them, but they were too weak to reach for it.

With raw and bloody hands, the culprit grasped the hoop of keys dangling from their face. Enbi covered his mouth with his hand— He'd seen enough bloodshed.. But not on _this_ level of scale. As much as he wanted to dash off, he simply couldn't look away. The culprit yanked on the hoop. The key ripped from their eye socket with a wet popping sound. They gave a yelp and fainted dead away, flopping back on the camp bed with the keys clutched tightly in their fist.

He almost fainted himself; His head was spinning as he staggered to his feet. He adjusted his bandana and covered his nose and mouth to keep from choking on the thick black smoke belching down into the basement through the open trapdoor above them. Fiery ash rained down onto the mattress. It wouldn't be long before the fire spread downstairs.. Already the basement was rising in temperature with every passing minute.

He took a wary step towards the culprit, eyeing the keys clutched in their fist. It looked like they were out for the count.. All it took was getting burned half to death, blasted into a wall, thrown down a staircase and stabbed in the eye. But he wasn't about to take any chances.. This killer was like a goddamn brickhouse.

He kicked the shotgun beyond the culprit's reach. It skidded across the floor and clanged against the legs of a workbench. He paused when he noticed some kind of shrine on the wall above the workbench. The cluster of photos showed a young woman.. _The victim,_ Enbi figured. Beneath the shrine sat a chunky security monitor- But it wasn't showing the store go up in flames. Instead it was hooked to an old VCR player running a short loop of silent film.

The grainy black and white footage was timecoded in the bottom corner, dated one day ago. It showed the victim as they stood in terror behind the shop counter. They were opening the cash register for a killer wearing a stocking mask that mashed their features. They were also clutching a pistol in a sideways gangsta-grip. The cash drawer slid open and the killer's pistol spat fire. The back of the victim's hair flailed as their brains splattered the cigarette rack. Bloody cartons of smokes rained from the rack in a waterfall. The victim crumpled to the floor, and leaning over the counter, the killer raided the cash register, pocketing bills as they fled the store.

The footage looped, and played again.. And again.

Enbi looked at the cushioned chair parked in front of the monitor, the cushion cratered by the weight of the culprit, and the weight of the grief pressing down on him. How long had the culprit sat here? Hour after hour.. Day after day.. Watching again and again as the victim was gunned down by the culprit themselves.. A piece of shit like they were.

Before the footage could loop and play again, Enbi switched off the monitor. He saw his reflection in the blank TV screen, and was about to look away in guilt, sickened at the sight of death- Then something in the screen's reflection caught his eye. A sudden movement behind him.

He wheeled around in time to see the culprit swinging a fire extinguisher by the hose like a makeshift mace-and-chain. The metal butt of the fire extinguisher scythed across his jaw, smashing teeth and bone, and he dropped as though he'd been shot, just like the victim, out cold before he hit the deck.

...

When he came to, Enbi found himself facedown on the cracked concrete floor. His ankles and wrists were bound tightly with duct tape, hogtied behind him. He raised his throbbing head weakly off the floor. A rope of congealed blood drooled from his mouth, puddling like black treacle on the concrete. His vision blurred in and out of focus, but he could see he was still in the basement. The room was fogged with smoke that was starting to clear.. The fire upstairs had been extinguished. The culprit must have doused the flames while he was unconscious. He listened intently for the wail of EMS sirens outside. Surely someone must have reported World War III breaking out in the store.. But all he could hear was the sound of someone digging.

A section of the basement's concrete floor had been broken, probably by the sledgehammer propped against the wall, a slab of stone levered up to reveal the dirt below. The culprit was using a shovel to dig a hole in the plot of earth, piling up the dirt beside a steel drum with a skull and crossbones symbol and a label marked LYE. The culprit's wounded hands were swathed in bandages. They grimaced in pain as they worked the shovel. Whenever the pain seemed too much to bear, they would glance at the security monitor on the workbench, watching the footage of their killing spree, and summon the strength to continue digging. When they were done, they climbed from the hole and loomed over him.

He tried to beg, but his shattered jaw and blood-clogged mouth allowed only a pitiful choked whimper. The culprit planted a foot on him, his shoes giving the last squeak he would ever hear, as they kicked him into the grave.

Enbi landed on his back, his bound arms and legs twisting painfully beneath him with the impact. He watched in helpless terror as the culprit began shoveling the dirt over him. The last thing he saw was what looked like another shrine on the wall directly above him, no photos, this time. He thought this one looked less like a shrine than a trophy wall.

Nailed to the cinderblocks was a stocking mask, a hat, three bandanas, one of them black wool with red trim around the edges, and not so lucky after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Enbi specializes in National//Terrorist cases, I wondered how he'd handle a culprit who was a little less than sane.


	4. [3] Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Business/White Collar Crime  
> \- DSC **3** 67  
> \- Rank 7

> _The following Specialist is summoned._
> 
> **_Eigo Amino_ **

_(..Who is this guy, and why is he so calm..!?)_ Amino simply stares at the office's vast size, and the interviewer themselves, their suit's quality alone already transcending his ordinary work-wear. _(I just caught wind of his identity, and all he does is shrug it off?)_

His swirling thoughts weigh him down, already the next step complicating more than beyond 'Step foot in the Company'. _(Do they really take part in nothing illegal? We're almost the same age, but they're an Executive, which makes it even more suspicious.. Maybe there's more going on behind the scenes that I don't know..)_

"I'll be straightforward with you.." The Executive folds their hands together, pushing forwards a written contract towards Amino. "We'd really want you onboard with us."

"May I ask why?"

"Of course," They folded their arms across their chest, smiling. "Your success from a recent test you've partaken in earned your valuable skills a chance to be used. Use this time to make a decision. Now if you'll excuse me.." Just as they've finished their proposal, they gathered up small cards and bits of info stubs as they walked out of the area.

_(If that's the way it'll go.. Then I'd probably search around this room for a bit.)_ Amino's gaze falls to a particular door, an electronic scanner next to the wall, signifying its vast importance. _(I wonder what's behind that door..)_ Getting up from his seat, Amino paces towards the door, mind racking on the the slightly unfamiliar technology he's greeted with. Taking a card off their desk, he places it directly on the scanner, a short chirp shrilling for a moment as the lock disengages. The light floods into the darkened room, and he rushes in to investigate.

_(They might return soon, so I gotta find something, even if it's just a little-)_

His eyes darted to a small stack of photos, shock freezing his movements as he stares at photos.. Of him..? His hand shakes due to the adrenaline and fear of possible incidents, dropping it back on the table. Was the enemy gathering intel on him?.. But it was a brief encounter, so none of made sense.. He shook his head and wiped away the worry for now, and took a look at the very back of the room, pasted with pictures almost covering the entire board they were intended for.

Whipping out his phone, he hastily took pictures, the pressing matter of limited time getting to his nerves. A safe catches his attention, and as much as he wanted to open it, a slight noise of movement and a shadow streaking the light pouring in causes him to dash underneath a desk. Crouching as tight as his body could handle, the sound of the door being opened and the Executive's cast shadow quickens his heartrate.. But all in all the moment passes, and their footsteps slowly fade out as Amino's rushed efforts might have brought him a little closer to what exactly he's going to take on.

He bursts out, pace quickened as slowly but surely the pieces of their intention start forming in his mind.. Its only until a couple of blocks over that he's had the misfortune of running into the Executive again, cursing his poor planning.

"There you are.. Have you changed your mind about the contract?" The Executive turns to him, a slightly cautious looks on their face.

"Damn _fraud._ Going around with those contracts of yours, huh?" Amino's chagrin almost radiated from his expression, thoroughly intent on breaking apart his adversary. "Tell me, what have you've done to others that have signed your unlawful contracts?"

"Ah. So that's how it is.." The Executive adjusts their blazer, continuing their gaze on him as he spills the mechanics without a second thought. "Illegal practices are almost always profitable than legal counterparts. Isn't it an obvious choice to make from a business standpoint?"

Amino's rage was practically flowing over now, readying his punch only to be grabbed by a guard, held in place.

"Listen up, now.. We workers are an established corporation. We don't throw fists like children. If we need something, use our money to hire people."

"Tell me, dammit.. You call your practices ethical? I'll search this entire enterprise from top to bottom 'till I get what _I want,_ so get out of my way." Amino already managed to shake off the guard's grip, a hook catching the Executive in the face as they falter. But they didn't seem that fazed when their balance was off, only managing to be caught by their array of guards.

"As the company gets bigger, I guess so do the pesky nuisances.." They grunt, a grin plastered on their face despite their pain. _"Kids_ like you barging in and throwing fists, for instance."

Amino's features shifted to sight shock as the realization of his actions dawned down on him.

_"You_ just ushered into a normally operating company, and stared using violence. You're also accusing us of methods we've commit to with just speculation and no proof.." They are soon brought up to their feet again with help, continuing to rain down his retaliations against him. "And on top of that, assaulted the company's Executive member, who had no intention of harm.. In front of the company's _lawyers."_

Amino's shock slowly fades as he backs up in response with the Executive now up close and personal, their hand now clapped on his shoulder, exuding their power over him.

"If we call enforcement right now, who will be seen as the bad guy, here?" Their voice was low, but still held a sense of authority. _"Now_ do you get it..? We may be the same age, but we live in different worlds. It's fine, really.. You're so naive, who can you really blame?"

A deep sense of dread washes over him as they hold open the main exit's door, the orange of the evening sun shining in.

"Go _out,_ now. Cease your infractions.."

The cool air washed over him as the building slowly shrank from his sight, but even still he just _knew_ something was off.. But all he could do was walk away without ever having furthered his examinations.

_(This isn't an ordinary organization. They've already marked me from the very beginning.. But that's alright, I'll need to devise a counter.. Time won't fail me after all.)_

* * *

_(What can I even do.. Should I just barge in the company again? But they'll kick me out again since I don't have any evidence..)_ Amino's thoughts grow restless as he paces around the corner of the silent part of the tech district, going over multiple variations of would-be plans that would eventually render useless. _(If I snuck in late at night- No, they've probably reinforced the security after my last visit.. Could I even break my savings and outhire their crew..?)_

There he was, sullen, already back at square one, struggling to grip hold of an answer to calm his raging flurry of questions. There wasn't any support, not that it helped, anyways. It's just him against an enemy simply too complex to comprehend in their ideals. If only a decent lay-down would explain everything.. Gazing down at the card he'd swiped earlier, the company's logo was clearly centred, a few symbols here and there along with the words 'Workers' sprawled across the top. This card was the main access tool others affiliated with them used, so its worth was quite considerable.

But even with the card itself, it wasn't guaranteed complete access to all their sectors.. Something was needed to ease his temperament-

"I'll give you three seconds until you _get lost."_

Amino's gaze shifted to a particular employee, gazing at him once then beckoning him over to a more secluded spot once they've managed to gain insight of his intentions.

"I see you're one of _them,_ right?.." They pointed at Amino's card, then the envelope he never managed to catch sight of until now. "Lemmie guess, kicked out to the curb yet again.. Quite the filtering system, damn bastards.."

"You're a former worker, correct?" His question was almost painfully obvious to the other, but he wanted to get things straight to the point. "You've _been_ in there, so can't you just help me out here-"

"You want me to find another way to enter the building, and _what?_ Get myself stabbed by them?.." Their reaction was already immediate that they couldn't do much but simply guide him to the right direction. "In order to move freely within, you'll need a badge."

"Hold on-"

"You only get one once you've joined Workers.. Used as identification. Your goal is to search the company without your hands tied, right? Then it's impossible to do so without one."

"I-I have a card.. That'll do, right?!" Amino grasps the plastic card in his hand, waving it around slightly.

"Like I _said,_ if you don't have a badge, then just go back.." They turned around, pacing away slightly. "But _you_ have it. Now that you're set, you shouldn't have any problems."

Amino simply gazed at his envelope, a darkened circle fixed onto where the end of the flap meets. Pacing out with newfound knowledge, he makes his way back to completely re-haul his formulated plan.

* * *

_(The badge determines the hierarchy for all four affiliates.. Since they're one of them, they'll be under a badge system.)_

He stood in front of the mirror, closing his eyes and staying in silence for a few moments. His actions had gotten himself in a world of trouble.. But that wasn't temporary. Even armed with newfound knowledge, he couldn't risk being picked apart again when he returns. As he opened his eyes, already he began to change who he was. Taking out a headshot of a random guru, he stared at the picture until his muscles slowly relaxed into the shape of the face. he could feel his expressions changing to to his appearance.. It’s hard to age twenty years in twenty seconds. Taking a long breath, He let it out slowly, and became 55 years old.

_(Normal employees don't have a badge.. They're not one of the workers.)_

Since the guru's palette was black, Amino had to change his to match. He carefully took out his sharp brown contact lenses and replaced them with foggier, duller, blue ones from his pack. He accented the curves of his face with a pencil and furrowed his brow to emphasize the lines. He smudged the pencil marks with his thumb until they blended in seamlessly with the curvature of his face. He applied very small amounts of dark foundation to his neck, cheeks and forehead.

_(Blank badges, contract workers.. Either verified or hired mercs..)_

Within two minutes, it looked like he'd had the wrinkles and deep laugh lines of a man ten years older. “My name is Eigo Amino,” He spoke in their voice, just to practice.

_(Gold badges, has the worker's symbol engraved.. Only Executives wear one..)_

The hair was next. There are hundreds of products that can change a man’s hair color, but he'd come to rely on a select few. Speed and simplicity are important. He didn’t have the time or space to wash his hair and let the dye sit for an hour.. Instead He got his scalp wet in the sink and carefully combed in streaks of instant dye, turning his chestnut brown hair a darker, dirtier, older black. Once the dye set, He added very light streaks of salt-and-pepper gray, then swept his hair back and tousled it until it looked careless, completely changing his former appearance. He also made the eyebrows match with a few touches of a pencil.

_(White gold badges, only the President of an affiliate can wear.. Four in total..)_

“My name is Eigo Amino," He voiced to himself again, almost getting the hang of the art. “I’m a detective specializing in Business crimes.. But not today..”

He had a few pairs of glasses in the bag, trying a few different styles. Wire frames were too trendy.. Circular specs were a little too old fashioned.. Thick-framed black glasses weren’t right, either. He settled for a pair of rectangular bifocals that slid down his nose slightly. Glancing in the mirror. He looked practically professorial. He tied a small amount of dental floss around his left ring finger and pulled it until it was tight enough to cut off circulation. When he pulled the floss out, it left the mark of a married man.

To complete the costume however, he'd have to change watches. No authority figure would wear such a mediocre Edox, and, if he was smart, he wouldn’t risk someone recognizing it. However this was the only watch he had with him, and was quite attached to it. Amino pushed it back on his wrist to hide it under his shirt cuff. The combination of all of his efforts rendered him completely unremarkable.. He looked like thousands of other middle-aged Japanese men. Middle age, middle weight, middle height and middle income. The only thing that set him apart was the slightly worn suit and watch, but those could be explained away. At his age, he should care about how he looks.. It’s just part of the job.

 _(Black badge.. Highest in the hierarchy. Company's VVIP.)_ Amino tore off the badge from the envelope, pinning it to the left of his blazer's flaps. With the blazer's darkened colors, it practically complemented the black badge's appearance as it almost practically blended in with the fabric. _(Even if I am part of them.. I can't let slip now.. The badge isn't invincible.)_

* * *

With his newfound appearance, he set sights on the enterprise yet again, stepping foot in the entrance with a confident, yet assertive state of body. other employees immediately ceased their activities and bowed, their greetings echoing throughout the company's area.

Another employee, obviously disgruntled, snazzy and insufficiently dressed, pushed aside the commoners as they slightly bowed. A glint of silver flashed from them, indicating their status as Affiliate President. "President of the fourth affiliate, nice to meet you sir.."

Amino gazed beyond them, the doors and entryways already clear and more accessible than ever.

_(Lets see how much I could boss around..)_

"So, _President.."_ He asserts his attitude, already his newfound persona doing more than enough. "Why don't you start showing me around?"

They correct themselves, turning to walk off, signalling to follow. "Follow me for the company tour, sir.. Do leave your belongings with our staff before we proceed."

_(It seems like they almost always collect all visitor's belongings. VVIP's aren't an exception.. Security, I presume.)_

"I'll be your escort, sir.." The Affiliate President gestures along, a slightly unnerved smile on his face.

"-No. I want _him_ as my escort." As Amino faced towards a slightly rushed security manager, they attempt to conceal their signs of unkempt. Their badge was blank, which made it easier to deflect suspicion.

"Manager, you're late!.. Escort the VVIP!"

They tugged on their blazer with a slightly anxious expression, walking alongside as the rest of the area slowly changes scenery.

...

"..This is our marketing department, they help manage individuals contracted with this company." The Manager walks down an isle of what looks like the standard cubicle office, badgeless employees up and about. "Deploying them to what skills we seem are best suited with their needs."

As the hallway shortens in length, another, slightly similar looking pathway branches out, almost a similar taste to the previous.

"Then that must be the department in charge of creating the contracts for parties to sign," Amino voices out his thoughts, still scanning the interior from head to toe.

"That's right, sir."

"Well, there's this _one company_ I know.. That _locks up_ others with unfair contracts."

The Manager's eyes go wide as they attempt to compose themselves, continuing their tour regardless despite Amino's casual incriminating comment.

_(So, VVIP's are unaware of the contracts? Seems like the rest of the secrets are kept out, too.. Seems like the black badge doesn't give me access to all the trade secrets.. But I'll make sure it does.)_

"Lets move onto the next floor.." The Manager leads him up to an elevator, prompting him to select a floor. "Where would you like to check, sir?"

"I'd like to check up on the floor where you _lock up_ those unsuspecting victims," Amino's authority exuded, his persona acting the part of intimidation. "Don't try and hide it from me. I already know everything."

...

Amino bursts through the office doors, a completely different atmosphere dawning upon sight. Unlike the previous sectors, this floor was almost completely void of employees, and the general aesthetics as well.

 _(I don't have time for an elevator..!)_ Growing steadily more frustrated, he sprints up the seemingly endless rows of stairs, gritting teeth in the process. _(Stairs are faster, and since this company's 30 stories high, I'll search every floor if I have to..!)_

...

"..You're trying to find the place where the victims are locked up..?" An unsuspecting employee repeated his words, wanting to make sense of the situation. "On the top floor?.. My, what a joke..!"

"We don't lock up anyone here, so you don't have to worry about that." The Manager replies, having already followed him up to the entrance. "Did you find what you needed, sir?"

_(It seems that as if all the other VVIP's have asked a similar question.. So that means I'm doing well, passing off as a real VVIP.)_

"Since you took a look at all the floors, I'll gladly guide you down to the lobby." The Manager now starts to slowly part, attending to other needs.

_(But.. I didn't find any form of evidence. Every search leads me to the same.. Why can't I find anything? Could there be some form of secret?-)_

Amino's mind struck clarity as suddenly, almost _one last thing_ came to mind, that he's neglected for so long.

"Usher," He snapped, uncaring of his attitude. "Where can I find the Executive's office?"

"Why do you ask that?.."

"Just _tell me_ where it is, and you can go back down.. _Manager."_

...

He prods along checkered tiles, dress shoes clicking with each step. _Here_ was the Executive's office, already that same, almost dazzlingly large space as it always was. Alone and guard let down, he scans the area for missed chances he failed to spot on his previous run.

"So, who's there?" A voice protrudes from another room, which surprised Amino; The Executive was currently in a meeting, so there shouldn't be anyone else in this area..

"I'm a VVIP, here for business." Amino replies, turning his head to the source. "Is there a problem?"

 _"What?!_ A VVIP? Hey, _hey.._ I'm one, too."

At this point, Amino was already bound by the tethers of shock, and the other member's seemingly wild personality. He'd sat himself down, thoroughly engaged in the member's chatter.

"So tell me," They prod along, sipping a cup of tea, grinning. "You didn't plan for anything _else,_ didn't ya?"

_(Dammit.. He's a tough one to read. How would I go with this..?)_

"Not particularly.." Amino responded, deciding for a more casual approach, based on his guess on equal rank.

"I see.. So I guess you're a _rat,_ then."

Amino's features froze in shock, the realization of his cover being blown right here and now. It's already far too late to turn back, and there's no knowing what's exactly in store for him as the other VVIP was quick to react, a single kick of his leg and capable armwork sent him sprawling down headfirst onto the tiled floor, his recovery overcome by the perpetual fading of his consciousness.

The other VVIP turns away, prodding off with a sadistic grin.

"The Executive should be here any minute.. I hope he likes the _gift_ I've left him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With Business//Business Spies being Eigo's specialty, although he's described to be a little lackluster and ordinary, I headcanon him sometimes impersonating others just to 'know' them a little better.


	5. [4] Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Nature Crime  
> \- DSC **4** 88  
> \- Rank 8

> _The following Specialist is summoned._
> 
> **_Korisu Kakitsubata_ **

With every Duel Noir, comes a predictable wave of anxiety, hesitation, and an overall skill scruple. That is what she has dealt with countless times, but it's only today that she's actually decided to make change in her favour. The orange tinge of the sky and the slight breeze ruffles her clothes and hair as she jogs along the sidewalk, keeping pace with both herself and her dog.

 _(To think that I've been called upon just for a mere threat..)_ She plops down on a nearby bench, lost in thought as she lets her pet roam free nearby a tree. _(I can't believe it. Maybe they're really taking it seriously?)_ Her recent thoughts wander onto the delivery of a certain green-tinged black envelope, beckoning to be opened. As much as she didn't want to succumb to the ever growing anxiety, her curiosity got the best of her, and so she tore it open without a second thought. What greeted her eyes was a _threat,_ well, at least according to her gut feelings, anyways. Even so, she took no second thought to provide assistance.. And now on her way to a certain location provided by an anonymous tip.

But even with all that, her thoughts were interrupted with sudden barking, a quick glance revealing quite a problematic scuffle; It seems that another dog has interfered with the space, and now beginning to duel it out in hopes of winning.

"W-Wait-" She dashes towards the tree, wanting to break up the fight, but ends up face to face with the other dog's owner instead.

"My apologies, I should've tied him up.." Korisu bows slightly, but is met with the owners immediate reply in their fault. She tries to take charge of her faults, but it seems that the owner's completely changed pace. Before she knew it, she's now on a short jog alongside a familiar, short snippets of conversation here and there.

"Say, you came all the way here to tend to some strays, eh?" They asked, trying to keep pace.

"Yeah, hopefully they won't bite.."

"Must be tough being a vet."

Time passed by, and soon both slowly made their way back to where they've leashed their dogs, an easy landmark to spot a couple of blocks away.. But as both inched closer, the horrifying realization dawned upon them when both locked sight on the empty collars-

Gone.

"T-The leashes aren't scratched," Korisu voices her thoughts aloud with a slight tremor. "Someone must've loosened them..!"

"-Then we'll find 'em.. Hurry up, now!"

...

"Two dogs, again? There seems to be many missing pet flyers circulating.." A street worker confirms his encounter without laying a single eye on both of them, casually sweeping debris off the road. "Someone seems to be taking them. But that's not the real problem.."

"What?!" The owner snaps, completely taken aback. "Why would they-"

"The _bigger_ problem," The worker now looks up at them, a completely serious expression painting their features. "Is that those missing pets end up in the _garbage."_

...

"..Someone took your dogs?!" A passerby exclaimed, looking up beside a seemingly old animal bowl, three cats eating its contents.

"Yeah, someone took off their leashes. You haven't seen them?"

They looked towards the two others sitting besides them, beginning to converse amongst themselves.

"Couldn't it be that old man?.."

"That 'bag' general?"

"B-Bag general?" Korisu stuttered, the bits and clues in her mind taking a bit too long to piece together.

"..Yes. There's some strange person, seemingly a marine. I've seen him carrying around a bag.." One spoke up.

"I saw him when I was throwing out the trash, he had a bag and seemed to be snooping around.." Another pitched in. "That bag was _definitely_ moving."

In the side of her vision, she sees the owner's face go cold, expression stuck in a shock for a seemingly long moment. "A moment ago, I met _him.."_ Their voice wavers, staring at the ground. "That old guy in the marine uniform.. He _did_ have a bag."

"I.. I've _seen_ their house.." Korisu mutters under her breath.

"W-Where is it?!"

"I just passed by, so I'm not exactly sure."

"I'll take you. I think I know that place," A seemingly middle aged woman speaks up, adjusting her legs while crouching. "But I'm not going in though.."

 _"Show us."_ The owner's tone of voice was enough to get her to spring up.

...

"That's it, at the top. From over there!" She points out to a seemingly large apartment building, staying behind as both of them enter the premise.

The corridors are dim, and Korisu almost swears she's tripped on something despite the slightly uneven tiling of the hallways. Nearing up the stairways, the unpleasant stench of _something_ reeks in the air, a single breath causing her to gag, both hands covering her mouth to avoid throwing up. _(God, what even is that smell?!.. Rotting, is it really that bad? Please be safe..!)_

Rounding off the corner of the staircase, the next flight of stairs are blocked off by an iron door, completely locked. At this rate, its an impasse. Korisu rushes up to it, leaning forwards and peering beyond. "The front door inside is open, though.." She whispers to the owner, gazing further. "See if there's a bell-"

Her lookout is interrupted by a large clang, and the door latched open with a single strike in the right spot. The owner paces on as if nothing ever happened, much to her shock. She follows them up, the stench getting stronger with distance. Their footsteps echo around the hall as the sight of dirty, unkempt possessions are seen from the opened door, but the most prominent is the scratching and howling sounds protruding from an unopened door, in which both take no hesitation to open-

Only to be met with three other animals, none related to both.

"Thieves! Stop right there-" An old man burst out of his room, attempting to put a stop to their act, but Korisu spared no regard to consequence as she jerked him upwards by the shirt, demanding the location of the pets.

 _"Where_ are they?!" She seethed, arms almost shaking due to the anger. She was about to pry further, not before a loud sound echoed across the room, a familiar person dashing off, seeming to carry something in her arms. _(H-Huh?! That lady?!..)_

"I just found the bags and tried to help them!.." The old man wailed, furiously pointing at the dashing culprit. "Its _her!.._ That lady from room 202!.."

Both made an attempt to dash after her, but quickly the reality of the situation dawned upon them.. Chasing isn't going to get anywhere at this rate..

...

"..You said 202?"

"I'm afraid it might be a bit too late, she probably took your dogs and left.."

Courteously dressed back up again, the old bag general walked hand in hand with both of them, a few steps behind. Just as the conversation persists further, the owner recipes a phone call, with them answering it in surprise.

 _"-You said you lost two dogs, right?"_ The person on the other line explained in a hurry, seemingly panicked. _"There's this lady!.. She took two dogs and ran off!"_

 _(She's no 'cat mom'..)_ Korisu's thoughts run rampant, her search 'party' now split up to find the perpetrator's whereabouts. _(She's a damn animal hoarder. Treating them like objects!..)_

...

Constant searches.. Little evidence. False accusations.. Before giving up, she's decided to check _one last_ place..

"D-Dammit! Open up!!.." Korisu's heavy banging against the culprit's doors renders useless as her attempts were for naught, only increasing the hoarder's retaliation. "You have our dogs, don't you!? From the very start..!"

 _"Ugghh. SHUT UP!.. They're not here! I'm showering them with love!.. Stop trying to take my poor things away from me..!"_ The hoarder's voice leaks through the door along with the constant noise of barking and other background noises. _"I have rights to keep my door closed, landlords can't kick me out legally either, so try to evict me if you can!.."_

"Using the law to her advantage yet again.." The bag general sighs, staring at the door in disappointment.

"This isn't working!.." Korisu now ceases her ruckus, now having fished out her phone and now in the process of calling enforcement.

"It's no use.. I already called them multiple times.."

 _"..Number 202, again..? I've gone there time and time again,"_ One of the officers on the line replies in annoyance, clearly having expected the call numerous times. _"Just to keep telling you, there's no violation on her to have her out of there."_

"E-Eh?! No violation? But there are _animals_ inside-"

_"We can't prosecute her under the current laws unless an animal dies at the scene.."_

"Exactly HOW does that make sense?!"

_"Some parts have been amended, but it doesn't apply to that residence. Her collecting animals is not the same as killing them."_

"Its because she secretly throws away the dead ones.." The bag general adds in, anxiously adjusting his headwear. "And I can't kick her out, even if she doesn't pay the rent on time.."

"B-But.. That lady stole my dog.." Korisu's patience was at its limit, almost ready to accept this situation as a halt.

 _"Did you witness that yourself..?"_ The officer presses on, persistent. _"She won't open the door, even to us police. We can't do anything without evidence, either-"_

"I HEARD MY DOG INSIDE!!"

_"...Call us when you see it in person. We can't act on your belief alone."_

It's at that point that Korisu's rage boiled over, her hand clenching to her phone so hard that her fists were beginning to turn white. "Hey, general.. _I'm sorry."_

With a heavy hit, she concentrated the blow to the door's hinges, with it weakened and opened as a result. Immediately the smell of rotting garbage and dozens of malnourished, mistreated and abused animals rush out of the door, along with the culprit's shell shocked expression as the hallway's light floods into her room.

"I'm making a confession." Korisu raises the phone to her ear, all while embracing her pet's arrival at her feet. "I caused damage to private property.. Can you do something _now?"_

While animal rights laws couldn't do anything, damage to private property made them arrive right away. Everything calmed down in a matter of hours, and so she simply strolled off without a shred of regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I'll admit, maaayyyybe I've done a bit of my fair share of animal 'cruelty'. In fact, for some reason, cute, fluffy things I just wanna grab and squeeze like a plush toy. IDK.
> 
> Yeah, just some instinct we have against cute fluffy things that make us wanna squeeze, so uhhh.


	6. [5] Technology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Technological Crime  
> \- DSC **5** 27  
> \- Rank 7

> _The following Specialist is summoned._
> 
> **_Sachi Mizuiyama_ **

Her fingers swiftly dashed across the keyboard, eyes scanning every little bit of information whether its code, popups, security details, or simply the interface itself.

When most people think of _'hacking',_ they'd usually picture quite the stereotypical image mostly shown in Hollywood: Fancy UI's, insanely fast typing, jarring terminology often used improperly, and unnecessary fancy visuals. Reality check, it's _not_ like the movies.. And often times it takes a fair bit of time to actually achieve the intended results. It _is_ a game of patience and wit, after all.

 _(Looks like they've really screwed themselves over..)_ Sachi's thoughts were only short lived as she took a sip of her tea, getting out of her seat to stretch. After hours of constant checking, backtracking, scouring through mounds and mounds of code, her eyes simply couldn't take much more light. _(Let's see what your next move shall be, dear scandal.)_

Pacing around, she takes a good view outside the area, relishing in the significant change of atmosphere; Quite the difference it makes, especially after spending so long practically glued to the device. Small thoughts swirl in her mind despite the break, equally demanding to be reviewed upon and expanded. The faint chatter of many other users of the internet cafe were nothing but background noise, simply too bland to be taking any information when listening in.. Except for a few concerned group of teens, which were slightly quarrelling regarding a _certain_ mishap one of their friends have gotten themselves into.

Slowly but surely everything came flooding back. The _victim_ of a common fraud, here in close proximity? What odds, indeed..

_"The police reports are processed Mondays. We'll need to find the account before then, and return the money.. Because even lending out the account is a crime."_ One voice in particular stands out to her, and she listens in with slight annoyance. _"If we want to stop this from getting worse, they'll need to be caught as soon as possible."_

 _"..But is there even a way to do that?"_ Another voice pipes up, concerned. _"How'll we find them?"_

Sachi then takes this as a little cue to get a little closer, now in a distance but still in full view of the boy, who seems to be holding up a piece of paper with what seems like email addresses.

 _"I searched up the numbers on the scam, and these popped up. They use multiple ID's with a single number, you see.."_ He smirked, as if having discovered this obviously simple trick on his own. _"If an account's blocked, they can just use another one, but burner phones have to be bought. Split up and search for 'em!"_

_"I-I see..! If we search for those ID's, something might come up!"_

The rest of his group apparently were taken aback, their expressions changed with a newfound determination. Sachi however was simply unvexed, the information and methods used were already considered child's play, especially at her level of skill.

_"Now, let's do this!.."_

...

Time passes by. Their movements were rushed, in a hurry, their hardened expressions slowly breaking down into desperation. As much as Sachi wanted to intervene, she wanted to revel in their incompetence for just a little longer, her mind ticking off every single aspect of things their group has done wrong, the correct alternatives being silently voiced under her breath. As much as she wanted to continue their misery, their utter ineptitude was grinding her gears with every passing second.

_"H-Hey, nothing's coming up.."_ One of the teens stare away from the monitor, regret in their voice.

 _"T-That's strange.."_ The so-called 'leader' of the group slumped down, head resting against the keyboard, defeated. _"It should've worked."_

_"T-That's alright..! We're only getting started.. What's the next plan?-"_

_"There is none.."_

_"W-What do I do then?! Is there any other way?!"_ A panicked student rises from their chair, seeking some reassurance. Their behaviour strongly suggests that they've fallen prey.

 _"It's impossible for us, we're not the police.."_ Another butts in, already having accepted the situation. _"We have no choice but to run to the bank as soon as it opens.."_

The rest slump over dejectedly, anxiously fiddling with various items. Despite their commotion and Sachi's presence exactly one row across, she's just about had it with their 'plan' that was doomed to fail as soon as it launched.

"I couldn't even _tolerate_ listening to your godforsaken slump of a _plan.."_ She stood up, towering over the monitors and in full view of the screens and the group's anguished faces, the victim's more prominently evident as she locks her gaze at their sorrow. "Normally I'd take a fee, but I'd like to think of it as an investment. I just need to find the _culprit,_ right..?"

...

"Your biggest mistake was searching those fake emails outright," Sachi's form was slightly hunched due to the crowd of the destitute forming a slightly-less-than comfortable area of space around her, but she paid no attention as she fired away at the keyboard. "There's no way those emails specifically created to scam will lead back to them."

_"I-I get it, but why are you on Steam..?"_

"Just watch and learn," Sachi replied, a single tap of a key now leading up to the results. "What do _you_ think?"

 _"The info that we couldn't find by searching.."_ One of them voiced their thoughts aloud, a slight surprise in their tone. _"Came up as their game ID!"_

"You need an email address to make a game ID, and these guys have hundreds of emails. They might be useless everywhere else, but its perfect for _smurf accounts."_

 _"I-I see! Now we need some bikini pics of her to lure 'em in..!"_ An ecstatic student leapt up, their volume already getting the better part of the other people's disgusted stares.

 _"Stupid._ That's quite your level.. We don't have enough time to lure them in, and what if they're female?" Sachi scoffed, now turning away to face back at the screen. "And now, our _first problem._ Do you know what illegal dumpers are most afraid of?.."

One of the students shrugged, slightly perplexed. _"Exactly what are you talking about?"_

 _"-Witnesses._ They're scared people might see them throw it away or get caught by surveillance cameras, so they throw it away early in the morning.. But they throw away their _traceable receipts,_ too. That's how most of them get caught. What I'm looking for is something similar to those receipts.. A _flaw_ in their plan."

 _"Game ID's! I see now.."_ One pipes up, slowly realizing the concept. _"I always use the same ID's for my games, too.."_

"On social media, everyone's careful of their privacy. But in games, people get careless." Sachi makes her way to the victim's computer, scanning their contents. "Since there's a similarity, I'd bet their main would either make use of or completely disregard the numbers in the name."

 _"I see, should we search up the name then..?"_ The victim sighs, staring at the screen.

"We _could_ do that, or since its a unique name, there's a better way." She navigates through various websites, eventually landing on quite a recognizable one. "Blogs and forums. We'll set the the 'search' option to 'nickname'.. Aaannd bingo."

The screen popped up with an empty account, but the information on the side seemed to tell quite another story. Things were getting clearer, but still not as close. One of the students simply stared in awe, their expression giving full view of their shock.

Sachi then turned, shooting them a contemplated look. "What're you shocked about?.. We're just getting _started,_ here." She then leaned back, resting her arm on her chin, ordering the rest to get to their PC's. "Use this ID to find any and every social media profile you can think of. There has to be a few things they forgot about.. _Let the hunt begin."_

...

 _"Uh.. There's isn't as much information as we thought.."_ One perks up, their conclusion solid after quite an amount of time spent searching. _"All their social medias are set to private, and the only thing we could find was a photo used for their verification."_

Sachi steps up to their PC, examining the photo on the screen.

 _"What the hell, midget.. You're no better than me-"_ The former 'leader' vents out his frustration, a reasonable amount of distance away.

 _"What_ was that..?" She turns, facing the teen with a disappointed look on her face. "I already found them."

 _"T-The verification photo..! That's all we need!"_ Almost immediately his mood does a 180, clenching his fists in victory as if the answer was everything he'd been looking for. _"The convenience store outside the window!.. That means they were across the road from that store, on the second floor!!"_

Another one looks over his shoulder, taking a single second to examine the screen, not before madly dashing out of the building.

 _"Ha!.. Now we need to search the store, and use street-view to check each one..!"_ He boasts out his plan, his mood seemingly too bubbly.

"..Dumb, _and dumber._ Do you know just how many there are?" Sachi turns away, plugging away at the keys.

 _"Uhh, around 200? If we check 20 per person-"_ He replies, checking over his info. But his reply was quickly vanished as Sachi's search result for that particular store in their area yielded a number far too great for him to comprehend. _"Uh- E-eh..? 12,000?!"_

"..Not only that, but street-view updates slowly.. So it might not even be accurate."

 _"T-Then.. Do you know where that is..?"_ He asks, defeated.

"Of course not," Sachi replies, switching back to the image. "I found it in that picture."

_"But there aren't any phone numbers or anything that's remotely useful to us in it..!"_

_"Second problem._ Is a pig's appearance important?!"

The rest of them stand dumbfounded by her riddle-speak, but one shouts out _"Its personality is..!"_ They were immediately shut down, met with more confusion.

 _"Wrong!.._ The taste is. What pig did you think I meant? What you _see_ isn't everything." She crosses her arms in front of her, not before moving herself to click on the image, inspecting it. "For example, this image might not have much at first glance.. But if you open 'properties' and click on 'details'.. There's plenty of information."

The image's GPS coordinates came up on the popup, leading everyone to have a full view on the numbers.

"The user attached the _original_ photo. Since most people take photos with their phone, they don't bother to turn off the 'GPS' function enabled by default on their device. If unchanged, the image keeps a lot of GPS metadata." Sachi copies the numbers from the popup, then switches the window to a map. "..And once we input the coordinates into a map.. _There_ it is."

The rest stare at the screen in astonishment, their faces filling with hope yet again. Sachi takes off, pulling out her tablet, inputting the various commands used to take control of various surveillance devices obtained previously using infected IP's. After a few seconds of grainy footage, the screen becomes clearer, the face of the culprit hiding out is now within her cross-hairs as a sinister smirk spreads across her face.

"Call your little runner _off,"_ She mutters under her breath, now briskly walking out of the building. "Looks like I've _finally found you."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long time ago, when I was hella naive, I fell for the most laughable, obvious ploys that came into existence. Free game currency generators are quite the trick, to be honest.


	7. [6] Sex Industry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Sex Industry Crime  
> \- DSC **6** 66  
> \- Rank 6

> _The following Specialist is summoned._
> 
> **_Hajiki Yaki_ **

_(So.. These are the items they're selling.)_ Hajiki stares at the items of questionable worth, consisting of mostly dirtied clothing and bottles of various sizes that, again, might not seem like a good idea to put to use in any casual occasions. _(Despite my demands for meeting 'em, they simply wouldn't budge.. And every traceable info is all fake, too.)_

When a gang's in need of some extra income, there are many ways they could get their hands on some extra set of cash. There are more than enough ways to do so, such as robbery, drug dealing, extortion and other less viable means of getting through.. Usually these are more prominent. Some might use a little more tricks, a bit more _creativity_ when committing crimes, and usually, most remain uncaught simply due to their quiet and stealthy nature. Most methods were already known by him anyways, but _this_ craft consisted of off-selling goods was quite a surprise, especially when he's up close and clearly wound himself within the trade.

Though the sellers were all different, the parcels all originated from one area: South Side.

..Hostel. One of many organized gangs that do their dirty work in the shadows, only now that he's getting a little bit of a more concrete flow on what they're up to. Essentially structured as a cell within a cell, some members of that gang might not even know they're part of it. Only the top members are the real part of power.. But the rest of the members below them are essentially runaways. Since they're exposed, and do almost anything to survive, they have a higher chance of caving in to ill will. Members of Hostel know this, so the runaways are essentially used to commit crimes.

Hajiki takes his mind off the gang's formation, taking out a wrinkled paper of two headshots of seemingly attractive women, the text underneath listing off some basic information and their last whereabouts. Somewhere, at this time, they've fallen victim of forced prostitution, or whatever heinous crimes the members of Hostel have under their control.

Simply hunting them down isn't easy.. Which is why some plans carry some extra weight: _Joining the Runaways._

...

He sits himself down at a semi-populated internet cafe, fingers flying across the keyboard as he scrolls throughout many site blogs and boards.

_(Runaways are always looking for more members.. I wonder if it'll work.)_

Because its dangerous on their own, most runaways need a partner to rely on. A particular chat group catches his eye, clearly aimed towards the recruitment and commute of runaways. All he has to do is post, and surely he'd receive offers. Most groups don't accept males easily, mainly due to challenging power of their leaders. Money does most of the talking, and since most gangs are desperate for money, they don't want to lose someone with power to leverage.

Almost immediately after posing his contact info, a flurry of messages ping his phone's inbox, all eager to take him in. It's already set in place, and now?.. Simply just wait.

...

Sitting down at bench in the town's South Side he anxiously fumbles with his hands, slightly questioning his way of planning. There's no guarantee that he'd even get to meet the hosters themselves, and even still, there might be a risk of falling victim to fraud.. Or worse. He tries to eradicate those lingering possibilities in his mind, because _this_ was the easiest way to get closer to the victims.. Risk be damned.

_"You think he's serious about the $500? What if he's an old creep, haha!.."_

Various voices echo out from the distance, playful and seemingly immature. Hajiki didn't even have to verify that those group of female voices were most probably part of the runaway group, sent out to scout any newcomers willing to be taken in.

 _"Hey, must be him.. Those clothes look expensive, heh.."_ The voices draw closer, as well as the shadows cast from the streetlights and the clicking of their heels. _"Looks like a loser from behind, ahah.."_

Both eventually reach his proximity, leaning over to meet his gaze, their gazes freeze in shock as their expectations blew away, completely taken aback by his overall appearance. Already having adjusted to his image, one brushes besides him and snaps a selfie, her face lighting up with glee, smiling obnoxiously. "You sure you ran away? You look like a pimp, ahahah!.."

_(They both looks like young adults.. Are these victims really connected to Hostel?)_

"Hey, do you know Hostel?" Hajiki inches up and grabs one of their arms, attempting to shake up their constant laughing.

Their faces slightly blush in embarrassment, their thoughts slightly idle on the subject. "Um.. Isn't a hotel kinda expensive..?"

 _(Looks like they don't know.. Can't keep wasting time like this..)_ Hajiki turns to walk away, not before a loud grumbling of their stomachs greet his ears. As much as leaving for other leads, he just can't leave them both to starve.. Their slowly deprecating states of body was more than enough to have him give out his support.

* * *

The restaurant's aura exudes a slightly noisy, but vibrant state of activity, workers and customers making up most of the chatter throughout. Despite all that, the two runaways continues to shovel down food with such ferocity that Hajiki contemplated ordering them at least another two meals' worth. He takes some time to examine their appearance, the most prominent factor of neglect was simply the quality itself; Worn out, tattered, simply ineffective against the winter climate.

"Are you sure you can handle the cold..?" He tries putting forth a question, wanting to hear their take on the situation. "If you're low on cash, you can always try a better job-"

"A job? Ahaha! There are so many bosses that try to do weird things to us.."

"Even if we work, they do whatever they want to us, and don't even pay us.."

"..Then how do you get your money?" Hajiki replied, slightly shocked.

"..Money?" One tilts their head to the side, smirking naively. _"You don't need to know."_

"Look, I'll peer into your hardships.." Hajiki leans into the table, determined to win over their acception. "I want to join your runaway group."

...

"Are you sure?.. Our leader's a bit intimidating. It isn't too late to turn back, now."

"Yeah, he mostly resolves conflicts with his fists. You should really go back."

The slight moonlight shines down on the now narrowing streets and the increasing detriment of housing quality, the shacks already sticking out at first glance. Most runaways are either homeless or stay in a place known as a 'shack'. They're the worst places available in single room complexes. Since they're rarely rented out, they're given to runaways and gang members at a higher price. The buyer contracts with a borrowed or stolen identity, and instead of paying a monthly fee, they pay $50 per person.. So a tiny unit meant for one person can fit up to ten in a single fit of space.

They both near the shack they call their 'home', opening the door only to be met with a flying glass bottle, now shattering upon impact against the wall adjacent to them.

"What the hell took you so long?.." A scrawny looking middle aged man stepped forwards, grimacing at their tardiness. His body was almost lacklustre in any form of clothing, skin inked to the brim with tattoos on the right side of his arm. "Damn sluts brought a _guy_ in here?!"

"Been a while since I've beat some _sense_ in ya?!" He immediately pounces on the nearest victim, grabbing a fistful of her hair and violently jerking her head upwards, raining down a plentiful beating on her head. "Want some stitches on your head like last time?!"

As the leader raises his arm for another strike, Hajiki swiftly intervenes, having locked his arm in air as his grip reigns tight. He turns to meet his stoic gaze, commanding the rest in the group to stay put.

"Lock the damn doors."

The leader, without hesitation, twisted out of Hajiki's grip, using the rest of his power to land a punch across his jaw, with the detective almost losing footing as he stands strong.

"They both did nothing wrong," Hajiki stares them down, showing no signs of wavering. "I followed you here because I wanted to join your group. I have cash, so just let me in."

"You damn serious? Oh, you can _join,_ alright.." The leader grimaces, clenching his fists as he readies his body to strike, quickly moving forwards- "After I _break_ your damn attitude, goddamn freak!.."

Hajiki's body tenses as he clearly sees the leader's strike, raising his arms slightly but not bothering to defend. Multiple hits strike his upper body, and he straggles back, clenching his injuries. _(I'm not here to fight.. Finding Hostel is my number one priority..)_

...

Up top the shack's roof he stays in the chilling wind, hoping to avoid any more potential conflicts with the rest of the group members. The two victims also tagged along, already having clung onto his slightly more concise state of behaviour.

"So, why did you two run away?"

"Oh, _nothing_ special.."

"You really wanna know?.. Ehehe.."

They both seemed to answer the question with smiling faces, something seemingly odd for the nature of the environment that they're in.

"My partner wanted me to die with him." One's seemingly cheerful reply completely took Hajiki off guard. "When I came back from work one day, they were already hanging from the ceiling.. He said I was up next, so I just abandoned it all."

_(I thought they were slightly immature based on their attitudes, but now I guess that's how they cope with this stuff..)_

Most runaways are people who simply couldn't feel safe the way they were, but ironically enough, the groups out there seem to form some sort of connection, despite the risks overall.

A series of footsteps echo from the distance, revealing themselves to be the group from earlier, already in a more bitter mood now that they've called upon them.

"Hurry up and get changed, damn slut.." The leader spits, already inching towards their direction. "Time for the _role play."_

"O-Okay sir," One gets up from her sitting position, fear in her voice. "I'll get ready right awa-"

"Was I talking to _you,_ bitch? No, its _your_ turn now." The leader snaps, grabbing a fistful of the other woman's hair as he drags her along.

"Look, I'm not sure what this is about, but can I go with you-" Hajiki tries to tag along with his request, but is forced down yet again by the one of the other gang members.

"Just shut your damn hole and clean this area before we come back. It'd better be spick and span when I get back, got it?!"

The leader has now gone down the stairs, with both a mix of their protests and fear slightly echoing throughout. Hajiki continues to lay still, slightly in a rut on what exactly has happened. Two other gang members stayed behind to keep an eye.

"H..Hey, what's a 'role play'?" He asked, slightly out of touch. "Its what you guys call it to act, right?.."

They both burst out in laughter, almost mocking his imitated naivity.

"Hah!.. An 'acting gig', he says!.. Damn cute!"

The other woman's face now spouts tears,slightly trembling at the words themselves. "N-No.. I've never done it b-before.."

The two gang members ignore her crying, continuing to speak to the downed Hajiki.

"What's a 'role play', you ask?.." One smirks, almost flexing his simple bit of knowledge. "Its like blackmailing a bar owner for selling alcohol to minors."

"-And except of using alcohol.. We use _girls._ Some people call it _prostitution scams."_

* * *

He stands there, out of sight, gaze fixed on the woman's completely terrified expression. The client chats loudly in the shower, their phone somehow resisting the water's effects. After quite some time, they towel themselves off, exiting the shower only to be met with Hajiki's infuriated gaze.

"..Hey. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"

"Damn pimp!.. You must be _those,_ huh?! Those damn scammers..!" The client shrieks, a tad bit over-reactive to the detective's presence. "Don't you ever underestimate a guy in his 30's!.. Under Article 347 of Criminal Law-"

"Get the _hell_ out of here."

Already the client's face petrifies to fear as they scurry away, not before being struck in the face by the incoming gang.

"Damn freak.. 'The hell do you think you're doing?" The leader emerges, having already clothed himself for once. "'Haven't even started yet, and you think you can ruin everything?"

Hajiki turns to the victim, which now looks up at him with fearful eyes. "Hey, is this how you make your money?"

"Wh-What's so wrong about this?! If we'd work normally, they'll take advantage of us, _anyways!!_ They're all the same, of not _worse!_ We're conning them before they con _us!"_ This causes her to blow up, her voice already raising in volume, somehow wanting to justify her actions. "I'm _useless_ if I don't make money!.. I have nowhere _else_ to go, if I can't make money here! _Why do you even care..!"_

"..So being a bait to blackmail all these members, is what _you_ want, isn't it?.." Hajiki's tone of voice is low, as he now faces away from her. "If that's the case, I'm leaving."

He starts off, not before the victim's whimpers cause him to freeze in his tracks. "I-I.. Don't wanna do this. Help me.."

The leader immediately springs to action, wanting his prey ensnared, wanting them unable to leave. "You're not going _anywhere,_ damn hag-"

Hajiki's guard raises, as a single arc catches them in the jaw, sending them flying off into the wall, slightly staggered. His rage towards the group spikes now, clenching his fists and adjusting the brass rings on his fingers. "You _took advantage_ of someone who has nowhere else to go, made her do things against her will.. And you call yourselves a _group?-"_

The remaining members rush in a frenzy, feeling that their manpower is lacking due to his attacks. As soon as they've reached his range however, it only took a single blow to send them crumbling down, already disarmed. As his attention was focused on the others however, the leader used this opportunity of distraction in an attempt to land a blow to his neck.. But his vision catches the movement, leading the weapon to be grabbed mid-flight, wrenched out of the leader's grip as he's struck down yet again.

 _"Down, all of you._ " Hajiki's piercing glare and authoritative presence submits the rest of the members down on their knees, their heads weighed down as they simply stare at the ground. "Tell me, _how_ do you function..?"

"I.. I-If you get an 'h' tattoo from Hostel, you become the group's leader.." One of the members speak out, voice shaking slightly in all due lack of power. "Once you're a leader, you have to create a group and pay a fee.. As long as we pay the fee, Hostel watches our backs."

"W-We're not as bad as the others, s-sir.."

"Our group uses an 'act' to do prostitution scams, but the groups with bad incomes do much worse with the runaways.."

"So.. Hostel makes money like _this?_ Treating the runaways like _"objects?!_ Hajiki violently grabs onto the leader's jacket collar, yanking them towards him. _"Tell_ me where Hostel is."

"I-I really don't know, s-sir! I don't know any names or numbers..!" The leader shakes under his grip, fearful and almost lacking of any information. "Even the fees are paid anonymously to a burner account, and I only know that there's someone bigger behind this..!"

"-Then _how_ did you get your 'h' tattoo?" He presses, emphasizing force in his words. "You have to meet them to get it, right?"

"There's one way to m-meet them.. But I'll need a phone f-for that.."

"Hey, _pimp..!_ Damn fucker.." It seems that the last two members from the roof has only now emerged, slightly enraged. "We had to clean the area by ourselves 'cause you ran off, you roach!.. 'The hell you starin' at?!"

One of them now inches towards him, fists readied and wanting to provoke some action, but it seemed that as they inched closer, the dawning realization of his power made them both cave in and scurry down.

"Hey, _twink."_ Hajiki motions to the closest member, upon catching sight of a lump in their clothing. "Give me the phone."

...

_(A secret organization with no public identities..?)_

Hajiki takes off in a sprint, the blurring of streetlights and other light pollution only appearing as a slight distraction. Phone in hand, he verifies the location address sent by one of the members through chat. The only way Hostel members could communicate and recruit was through open chats. Easy to create and remove, and only people who know about it can join. The keywords change every day, so no outsiders can stumble upon them.

Having already given the keyword, he was sent the coordinates, and after quite some time, he comes across what seems like an abandoned mini warehouse, no signs of activity except for the topmost windows.

_(So.. There they are.)_

With newfound confidence, he whips off his trench-coat, stepping foot into unknown, yet newfound territory.


	8. [7] Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Art Crime  
> \- DSC **7** 52  
> \- Rank 2

> _The following Specialist is summoned._
> 
> **_Salvador Fukuro Yadorigi_ **

The massive fraud that used to be preformed left the art world more than a little embarrassed over the relative ease with which two self-described hippies were able to con some of the most esteemed dealers, collectors, authenticators, and auction houses in this nation.

With nothing more than a clever backstory as provenance and a talented yet devilish artist at the easel, the forger set in motion tens of millions of dollars in deals and devastated reputations. It would seem that all of the major players in the field would have reexamined their practices and cast a cautious— If not doubtful— Eye on high-value art coming on scene, especially that said to be from a previously unknown collection mysteriously hidden from the world for decades.

But such was not the case.

It’s hard to imagine a more venerated gallery or an institution with better access to the best minds in the field of art authentication. It’s harder still to believe that on the heels of the lessons that should have been learned by dealers large and small across the world from previous affairs, one buyer would almost immediately fall victim to a duped version of the certain collection.

Salvador's thoughts run through him as he almost loses focus due to the amount of time having spent daydreaming about various techniques and the possibility of the culprit's connections. Although he has yet to piece apart this particular work, the details keep on moving.

Some time ago, a Chinese painter came to the U.S with a student visa to study at the Art Students League. Before coming to America, their early years as an art student in China were not unlike those of the fellow forger. The works they produced in school were so good that their teachers doubted the works' authenticity, accusing them of tracing their drawings from originals. They persevered despite their teachers’ skepticism and went on to become a professional artist, albeit producing the mundane: During China’s Cultural Revolution, they were directed by the government to produce portraits of the country's Chairman for use in schools and factories.

Though it was honest work, it was hardly the sort of creative outlet dreamed of by many aspiring artists. Years later, after the Revolution, a dozen artists in Shanghai— including the student- Staged an exhibition that would come to be credited as playing an important part in a rebirth of sorts for Chinese art, and they received special attention for an abstract piece they produced for the show. When a viewer of the piece told them that they could earn the equivalent of about two years’ pay for that one painting in the U.S, the painter sought and obtained a student visa.

While their modest earnings in the U.S far exceeded the $42 per month they made in Shanghai, the success and acclaim they had experienced back home were now gone, and the painter found themselves reduced to peddling their paintings on the streets of the U.S.

In the early 1990s, with them adrift in a sea of artistic obscurity, the culprit came across the Chinese painter selling their works downtown. While it’s not clear whether they set out looking for a skilled forger or if they fell victim to an on-the-spot devious epiphany, something about the painter's work stood out to them.

'Here was an artist with true skill who might be willing to earn a few extra dollars.'

According to the painter, the culprit offered him $200— The equivalent of a very long day’s work— To imitate a work of modern art by a master artist. The offer was too good to turn down, and the painter produced the painting his new patron requested. Impressed with their work, the culprit came up with dozens of additional projects for them, each involving paintings in the style of world-famous Abstract Expressionist artists. On each, either the painter or the culprit would forge the signature of the original artist.

But of course, mimicry of a painting style is but one aspect of a convincing forgery. The right materials were essential to the creation of a convincing fake. Flea markets and art auctions have the option for purchasing old paintings purely for the sake of procuring period-appropriate canvases. In order to artificially “age” newer canvases, staining them with tea bags are a smart approach to take, considering that it is an organic material. It would not be easily detected by scientists examining the works. In a further attempt to make the works appear older, some attempts would subject the finished paintings to heating and cooling and experimented with exposing them to the elements outdoors.

Still, the scamming was not complete without some semblance of provenance. No matter the efficacy of the forger's brushwork or attempted aging techniques, one would need a backstory for the paintings that they would present for sale. They would have little success selling art whose origins could not be explained— That would set off red flags that they were trying to sell fakes, or fence stolen works.

Salvador's progress on his examinations were going smoothly.. Almost too smoothly. It wasn't until the pressing matter of the deadline would eventually bring everything to a close. With the crumpled sheets of notepad paper lying on the floor, slowly but surely the strings of connection all come together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art Crime scenarios are SO HECKING HARD to write I swear. So have a infodump kinda.


	9. [8] Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Freedom Crime  
> \- DSC **8** 88  
> \- Rank 8

> _The following Specialist is summoned._
> 
> **_Yui Samidare_ **

Samidare felt the blood drip from her nose down onto her lap, leaving a dark stain in the fabric. She didn’t dare move just yet, still too dazed from the hit she got to the back of her head. Pretty sure as a result of a concussion. What was supposed to be a rescue mission ended up with _her_ taking on the role of victim, at the mercy of her captors. _(Dear God, the irony..)_ Her thoughts were only interrupted as soon as they flared up.

Somewhere behind her she could hear voices, talking silently to each other. She couldn’t understand what exactly they were talking about, but she heard them say names.. Names of certain targets.. Victims. Swallowing down her nausea, she raised her head to assess her situation. Facing a brick wall and sitting on a chair, her hands were almost unmovable due to being tightly bound to the backrest.

Guessing by what she could see from her surroundings and the damp- Maybe even moldy smell, she was in a basement.

_(Just great,)_ She closed her eyes for a moment, only to snap them back open when she heard steps coming close.

“Wakey _wakey,_ kid.”

A male voice. Samidare turned her head to look at the guy. He was big, broad-shouldered and smelled strongly like cigarette smoke.. No chance of seeing a face because he was wearing a ski mask.

“Hey, listen, man..” She scoffed, blinking a few times to clear her vision. “You possibly got the wrong gal.. I’m no celebrity or whatever. Just a normal student, eh..?”

The man laughed and clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t you worry, pal, we have the right person.” While he was talking, he grabbed the chair to slowly turn it around. “You _know_ someone we want, but the bastard's a slippery eel so we decided we’ll lure them here.. With a little help from _you,_ of course.”

As she was being turned around, the rest of the room got revealed to her, as well as two more guys with ski masks. One of them held up a phone- _Her_ phone.

“Someone's gettin' a wake up call..” One of the guys gloated and leaned in way too close.

Unable to get some distance between them, Samidare turned her head away with a sigh. “Yeah, that’s them alright..” she said matter-of-factly. “Can’t do anything about it..”

A fist buried itself into her stomach, leaving her coughing and gasping for air. The world around her blurred again and the detective had to fight to not pass out. The next punch hit her jaw and made her head whip up again. Searing pain rushed through her neck and she couldn’t hold back anything but a pained groan.

Before she could compose herself, a fistful of her hair was grabbed, head then twisted so that she was face to face with the guy again.

“I should snap your neck right now, buddy,” He hissed. “Cut you into pieces, scatter 'em all over for _them_ to find, would’ya like that?”

“Not so much.. No,” Samidare forced out, swallowing down rising bile.

Satisfied with that, the guy let go and turned to his partners. The other two seemed rather amused by the whole thing.

She shifted slightly in her chair, trying to change her position to a more comfortable one. She had lost track of time a good while ago, and that bugged her. The room that she was held in had no windows, nothing to distract her or indicate at least a little bit where an approximate location was.

At some point, she had turned to observing his captors. They were very diligent to always wear their masks, so she couldn’t really tell them apart by facial features. Watching them, she believed the big guy with no sense for personal space was their leader. He gave orders, the other two followed without complaint; Samidare decided to name him ‘Boss’ for now.

The one that had her phone, going through her contacts, messages and pictures the whole time looked scrawny, if not to say unhealthily thin, and reminded her of a rat. ‘Ratman’- That would be his name for the time being.

The third one was a bit broader, though not at tall as Boss. The most striking thing on him possibly was his jacket. It was one of those ugly windbreakers with a way too bright cyan colour. ‘Jacket’ seemed to be most fitting. Samidare grinned contentedly at her choice of names. “Hey, big guy.”

Boss swivelled around, glaring at her in annoyance, but she kept a straight face though.

“Can't I have a drink? I'm practically parching, here.”

“What?”

“A _drink,”_ Samidare raised her voice a tad bit louder, hoping at least one of them would understand. “Can you even hear me through that mask?”

This time, she saw the fist coming. Putting her feet to the ground, she threw her upper body against the backrest as hard as she could, successfully tipping the chair backwards and evading the punch. She possibly would have fallen if she weren’t so close to the wall behind her.. Only now, with her feet in the air, she had no chance to avoid the next one.

In hindsight, it possibly wasn’t a very good idea to provoke the man, as he seemed to lose his temper quite easily, but she had never been one to just sit still and wait.

The next one hit her in the side of her head, flinging her to the side. She slammed to the ground, almost unable to move with the chair still attached to her and her right arm painfully pinned to the ground.

Not anticipating the kick that went right into her stomach, she let out an involuntary gasp that turned into violent gagging, as she wasn’t able to keep her stomach from emptying itself this time. From what she could hear through her hacking, the other two seemed to hold Boss back from killing her for good.

There was a bit of arguing and a door being slammed, then she felt herself being hoisted up after her restraints were cut. She almost puked again when she was turned around and then hung over someone’s shoulder, hands and legs bound yet again.

Hanging with her head upside-down and having a shoulder burrowing into her stomach didn’t exactly help with her nausea. Starting to writhe, her attempts to somehow alleviate the feeling failed as she was pushed back into place.

A rush of cold air suddenly hit her. She had kept her eyes shut to concentrate on the pain, but now she opened them to look around.. They were now outside. Everything was kinda blurry due to the tears formed in her eyes, but from what she could make out, she guessed they were in an uninhabited area at the edge of town. There weren’t any street lights and the buildings looked old and run down. No cars either, except for one that belonged to the group, and she realized far too late that she was in for a bumpy ride.

...

Samidare still felt sick.. The ride didn’t help with her pre-existing afflictions at all. In the trunk it had smelled like unwashed clothes, old food, and the whole ride had given her a slight motion sickness. On the bright side however, whoever was in charge for tying her ankles did a crappy job and she was able to loosen the rope enough for her to slip out of it if the need arises. For now though, she held his legs still.

It was too dark to see anything when they pulled her out of the trunk, but from the salty smell in the air, she guessed they were somewhat close to the sea.

They went inside a building and, as if she wasn’t hurting enough already, got thrown to the ground like a sack of potatoes. She stayed down on the ground, breathing through the incessant pounding in the back of her head and neck.

“You do realize that we’ll kill you if they don't turn up?” Jacket chortled with a dirty laugh and poked her in the back with the tip of his shoe. “Maybe even IF they decide to show up.. Who knows?”

Samidare didn’t react.. The empty threat of being killed no matter what, wasn’t the most motivating but she decided to wait it out for now. After all, those guys were either incredibly stupid, or incredibly dangerous, but she couldn’t tell what was the case just yet.

“Hey,” Jacket poked her again, a bit harder this time, which earned an involuntary grunt from her. “I’m talking to you!”

“Knock knock!..”

A new voice.. Familiar. Could it possibly be _them..?_ Samidare's eyes snapped open.

The other three turned in the direction the voice came from, ready to fight.

Their target came wandering in, steps slow as if strolling through a museum. When the kidnappers turned towards them, they raised their hands, indicating that they were unarmed.

“Nice to meet y’all,” They spoke in a friendly tone. “I’ve been invited to a party in this area.. Am I in the right semi-derelict storage hall?”

“Oh _you are,”_ Boss confirmed, pulling out a gun to point it at the target. “Keep your hands right there like a good guy, and this detective might not be harmed.”

That was the clue for Ratman and Jacket to pull out their weapons, both barrels pointing towards Samidare.

“‘Might’?.. Huh.” They stopped walking, hands still up like they were told. “May I ask a question? I get confused by all the people that either want me dead or locked away, so.. Mind telling me what exactly you want from me? I mean, you _did_ capture me with another third party.. All for what?”

Boss seemed to consider whether answering would change anything for a moment. Then he gave the former captive a lopsided shrug. “None of our concern,” He replied. “We only get paid to take you to our client.. Alive, that is, though they didn’t exactly specify what state you have to be in. So, no games.”

“Hah.. _’No games’_ he said,” The former captive grinned. Their voice suddenly sounded lower than before and the grin forming across their face reminded her of a dog baring its teeth. A shiver ran down her spine, she was lying with her back facing the newcomer, but she knew exactly what was happening.

“You’re entirely missing something, good man,” They kept talking. “This here never _was_ a game.”

The next thing that happened, none of the criminals had anticipated. The defector changed their posture and almost catapulted themselves forward, slamming their body against Ratman, who was standing closer and using that momentum to throw the both of them against Jacket.

Two gunshots sounded out, one ricocheted off the floor, the other grazed Samidare's shoulder before bouncing off the ground as well. Biting down hard on her lower lip, she sat up and kicked her legs a few times to get rid of the rope, when suddenly an arm wrapped around her from behind.

“Enough!” Boss barked, making all three of them freeze mid-fight. Samidare felt the cold metal of a gun press against her temple.

Now turned around, she could finally see what was happening. Ratman was still on the ground, the former captive's foot pressing down on his chest while Jacket had grabbed their arm. A victorious smile appeared on Boss’ face.

“Should I shoot your pretty little saviour here..? Because it'll be nothing more than a twitch of my finger now.” He pressed the barrel against Samidare's head with a bit more force to emphasize his words.

The attacker didn’t move. Their eyes were locked with hers, unblinkingly staring until she finally understood. Swallowing down the pain, she squeezed her eyes shut before throwing her head backwards with all the force she could muster.

..Surprisingly, it worked.

She hit something, heard an ugly crunch and then the agonized howling of Boss, who let go of her. The criminal instinctively landed on his feet, but just in time saw the opposition sprinting towards him and ducked down, falling to his knees. They leaped over him, tackling Boss to the ground and elicited another pained noise from the man.

Deciding that this was her cue to leave, Samidare threw herself to one side, avoiding Jacket and Ratman who were coming towards her. Somehow managing to push, crawl and hide between a few old pallets is where she finally allowed herself to take in a few deep breaths to calm down. Whatever the former captive did to them, she didn’t want to see it.. She didn’t need to see it.. She just had to stay out of the way and try not to pass out.

Screams turned into agonized wails and more shots sounded out, each one making Samidare flinch and curl up a bit more, hoping not to get hit by a stray bullet. Then, from one moment to the next, it was silent. She almost didn’t dare breathe, and she raised her head from her drawn knees when she heard slow steps approaching.. Almost painfully slow. They closed in until she saw them standing before the pallets she had pushed herself in between. There was blood all over their clothes and their eyes seemed almost completely void of.. Everything.

“Y-You're the _captive,_ right? I've received your file.. But how?-” Samidare hated her voice for sounding so weak right now.. Their head still slightly perked up at the sound of their former position.. So she was on the right track.

"Let me just say that I've switched out your role. Consider it my gift for having 'saved' you.. _Detective."_

“T-Thank you,” She muttered with a forced smile, slightly burying her hands into her face. “Pretty complicated circumstances aside, you saved me. But, uh.. Can I.. Can't I get a little refresher on what's exactly _happened_ here..?"

With no regard to her reply, the pallets are forced aside, with her emerging out of the rubble with a concerned state of progress.

“So, uhm.. What should we do about this?” Samidare glanced over to her liberator, who simply just looked straight ahead.

“Forget about it,” They replied, handing over some crumpled, scribbled notes. “There’s no evidence that _you_ have failed.”


	10. [9] Homicide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Murder/Homicide  
> \- DSC **9** 43  
> \- Rank 3

> _The following Specialist is summoned._
> 
> **_Ko Inuzuka_ **

Fourteen hours earlier, Inuzuka was playing checkers with a local straggler, the two of them on rusted folding chairs, drinking cold soda. It was only 11 o’clock and already 25 degrees, even in shade of the market’s awning.

He eyed the checkerboard as he held the sweating bottle against his forehead. Time flies by, and even at 41 the sun had dotted his thick arms with liver spots and lined his face with wrinkles. He flashed a smile before jumping two more of the straggler’s checkers. “Maybe you should stick to your newer types of games.”

“You can’t let me win? Just once?”

“The world, it don’t work that way. Better you learn that now.”

“I surrender, then..” They abruptly stopped and set up another game. The checkers went click-clack as they slapped them down on the wooden board, a lazy staccato rhythm. Then, the click-clacks suddenly stopped. They sat frozen, staring out at the parking lot. Inuzuka turned in his chair, following the straggler’s gaze.

A well built man crossed the blacktop, heading their way. The moment Inuzuka laid eyes on the guy, he knew a shitstorm was brewing. First off, one didn’t see newcomers walking around with no purpose.. Never. Sure, they’d drive through during rush hour, clogging the town’s main drag. But they never stepped out from their cars and the air-conditioned safety within. Also, the man wore a suit— Charcoal gray. Didn’t see many of them in the area either.. Maybe Sunday mornings at the church, but not on a hot Thursday, with the sun baking the sidewalks.

A pack of day workers lingered by the street’s various store entrances. One look at the newcomer and they decided to get the hell out. Probably thought the guy was an agent. He knew better.. Immigration agents didn’t wear ties.

For once, the straggler actually left. They took off down the street, not even bothering to grab their soda.

Stepping under the market’s awning, the newcomer plucked up the forgotten bottle and took a long drink, as if the soda had been left there for them. They were built like an old gnarled tree. Stooped yet solid. _“(Hey, been lookin' for ya. What goes?)”_

“I speak English.. But I’m guessing you know that already.”

This earned a twitch of a grin from the man. They had crow’s feet around the eyes but no smile lines. “Name doesn't matter.. But I've been looking for you a couple of days now. You’re a hard man to find.”

“Depends on who’s doing the looking.”

“I’m told you’re a coyote.”

“I don't like that term..”

“But you get people across the point of no return. Start them up with a new life.. That right?”

Inuzuka shrugged. “Depends on who wants to cross.”

Any hint of a smile on their face disappeared. They took off their suit jacket and slung it over the back of the folding chair before sitting down. And there it was, a big .44 Desert Eagle, riding in a shoulder rig under their left armpit.

“Need you to look at something,” They pulled a photo from their breast pocket and handed it over. “We thought she might’ve been a client of yours.”

It was a picture of the victim and some other handsome youngster with wavy hair. They lounged together on a beach, all margarita grins and sun-kissed skin. He peered at the photo, keeping his cool. “Never seen her.”

“You sure? ‘Cause this girl would’ve had the cash for someone like you. She’s not the type to ride in the back of a clunker with twenty other fellows.”

He tapped his finger against the metal chair. It was something he did when he was nervous, but it never calmed him down. “I don't know her,” He said, handing the photo over.

“Keep it. Has my number on the back. If you happen to run into her, give me a call.”

“What do you want with her?”

The newcomer didn’t answer. They snatched their jacket off the chair and moseyed back the way they came, gun hanging under their arm for the entire world to see. A gray Mercedes SUV whispered around the corner and they climbed in.

Inuzuka waited for the vehicle to slip into traffic and drive away before taking another look at the photograph.. The woman gazed back at him with warm brown eyes.

* * *

She’d been nervous the day they crossed over.. Couldn’t believe they were driving straight through the checkpoint into a new area.

“Just like that?” The victim's relation had asked.

He held the steering wheel loosely and kept his eyes on the road. “Yeah. Just like that.”

Inuzuka’s vehicle rolled forward a few more inches then stopped again. They were the tail end of a line of cars snaking towards the minor city border. Outside, the ramshackle town sprawled across a sun-choked stretch of the surrounding. Ignoring the distraction, he reached under his seat for the gym bag and tossed it in the affiliate's lap.

“What’s this?”

“Lemmie give you support,” Inuzuka replied. “Passport. License. Visa. Even got you a library card.”

One by one, the affiliate dug each piece of identification out of the bag for inspection. He watched her lips move, mouthing the syllables of her new name, trying it on for size. She was a swan of a woman.. Tall, slender in baggy blue jeans and a button-up shirt. If it weren’t for the short hair and men’s clothes, the affiliate would look exactly like his dead lover.. Always wore her hair long.. Always wore dresses.

“Are these real?” The affiliate's eyes narrowed looking at the passport.

“Wouldn’t use the Visa if I were you. But the other stuff is real enough.”

She reached into the back seat and pulled a stack of bills out of her bag, and Inuzuka waved her off.

“Good luck out there. Give me a thousand for the agents. Pay me two more after we pass through undetected.”

“And my partner will bring you the rest? That’s the deal, right?”

“Yeah.. But until he pays up, you’ll be my guest.”

“Your guest or your prisoner?..”

Inuzuka stared through the vehicle's dusty windshield and tapped his finger against the steering wheel. He let a little silence hang between them. “You’ll stay at a drop house. I won’t lock you up, and I won’t watch you all day long. You’ll have plenty of chances to run, if that’s what you want. But if you do, I’ll come looking for you. I won’t like it, but I’ll do it. This is my business, got it?”

“I understand.” She sunk back into her seat and closed her eyes against the sun’s harsh glare. He could tell her brain was working, and whatever thoughts swimming around up there brought a tremor to her lips.

Most of his clients were running to something— A fresh start, a new life..

But this affiliate was running away.

* * *

He crossed the building's lot.. Zig-zagged the neighbourhoods. Slipped through back alleys.. If anyone was following, Inuzuka didn’t spot them. Finally, he came to a faded blue house with a dirt lawn— The safe house. He gave the back door three quick knocks, paused and knocked again.

No one answered.

He slipped inside the kitchen and opened the oven he never used. His old Beretta waited for him on the top rack. One of his 'just in case' guns, stashed for emergencies. Gun low, he headed for the master bedroom, the one the affiliate had taken. The door was ajar.

The affiliate stepped nude from the steamy bathroom, toweling off her body. It was jungle hot, and water beaded on her smooth skin. Peering through the cracked door, Inuzuka stood silent and still, his face growing warm. He shouldn’t be spying like this, but he couldn’t help it.. She looks just like _her.._

His brain knew the truth of it, that his lover was dead 16 years now.. But the heart wasn’t listening to reason. The room was sparse, the only furniture a queen-sized bed, the only decoration a tarnished crucifix hanging from a rusted nail. She dragged her duffle bag out and dug up fresh clothes. He held his breath as she slipped on black panties and grabbed a men’s button-up shirt. She was on the third button when she suddenly looked up and spotted him behind the door.. Watching her.

“You want something?” Her shirt hung open, showing flesh. She didn’t even try to cover up.

Inuzuka held the pistol out of sight, not wanting her to see it. He opened the door slightly. “We need to talk.”

“So _talk.”_

“A man came looking for you today.. Well built, charcoal grey. Never gave out any details.”

He heard a curse hiss out from her lips as she frantically buttoned up the shirt. “Did you sell me out?”

“I told him nothing,” Inuzuka replied. “You want to explain what’s going on?”

She balled her hands into fists, trying to stop them from quaking. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“You’re no ordinary person, that’s for sure. My guess is you went here looking for sun and fun.. But that’s not all you found, was it?”

“I met someone,” The affiliate wavered, averting her gaze. “Said he was a businessman.. Just didn’t tell me his business. Deep down, I knew what he was, but I didn’t want to admit it.”

“Isn't he after you..?”

She sat on the edge of the bed and gazed at a knot in the floorboards, eyes vacant. “One night a few of us went to a club.. The place was closed for the evening, but we hung out, kept drinking. Everybody was having a good time.. Then he got into it with one of his friends.. Something about money. Next thing you know, he loses it. I’d seen him get angry before, but not like this. He breaks a bottle and-”

“No more.” Inuzuka cuts her off. “I don’t want to know.”

“Three other people saw what happened that night. They’ve all gone missing.” She gazed at him and bit her lip. And there she was again— His dead lover, staring at him with wet eyes.. Pleading. “Please, i-if he finds me.."

Inuzuka stepped into the room and set his pistol on the nightstand. He crouched down to meet her gaze. “I'll help you..”

She sobbed.. Fell into his arms. Her wet body pressed against him. He held her tight, felt her pulsing heart, felt her skin.

The name escaped his lips, whisper quiet. And when he pushed her towards the bed, she simply didn’t resist.

* * *

Cold metal tapped against Inuzuka’s forehead. He woke up blinking. The hard muzzle of .44 Desert Eagle loomed an inch from his nose. “Morning, sunshine..” The newcomer from earlier grinned. They stepped back, keeping the big pistol leveled on the detective's face. “Looks like you’ve had some fun tonight.”

Inuzuka grabbed the sheets, pulled them to his waist, covering up his state of undress. Faint moonlight traced a halo of light around the window shade. The affiliate was gone, and so was his weapon.

“Where is she?” He demanded, staring his adversity down.

“Funny.. I was going to ask you that.”

“She must’ve left after I fell asleep..” He answered his own question with a slight hint of idiocy.

The newcomer held up the Desert Eagle. “I've got a big fucking gun, and you’re talking to me like I’m an idiot.. Real bold move.”

“It's the truth.. I swear it.”

His adversity was a vulture— Dead-eyed, stooped back. A scavenger’s lonely face. “We’ll see,” He finally spoke after quite some time.

Another man appeared, presumably his adversity's partner, filling the doorway with their bulk. Two hundred fifty pounds of muscle and fat stuffed into a cheap black suit. One beefy hand held a Colt revolver. The other wrenched a familiar face around by the hair, the straggler's eyes wide with terror.

“Good thing we ran into your friend here,” The adversity grinned. “No way we would’ve found you without him.”

A shaky straggler stared at his sneakers, unable to meet Inuzuka’s eyes. The adversity grabbed the straggler's chin, forcing them to look up. “Don’t be too mad at the little fuck.. He tried saying he didn’t know where to find you. But I’ve got a talent for reading people, I knew he was lying. Just like I knew you were lying about helping the girl.”

“Don't you harm him.."

The adversity looked almost hurt. “I don’t need to hurt worthless dykes.. I’ve got a box of fishhooks in the trunk of my car. Trust me, in the next thirty minutes you’ll tell me everything I want to know.”

They nodded to their oversized partner, who let go of the straggler's hair. They glanced at him, their face a mask of shame.. They then jackrabbited down the hall and out the front door.

The adversity gestured to Inuzuka with his pistol. “Come on.. Let’s take a ride.”

He dragged his sheets behind him like a bride’s train. Both mercs followed him through the hall and into the living room, their guns low. If they got him outside and into a car, he knew he’d never see daylight again. He stumbled and grabbed a side table to keep from falling.

“Move,” Shouted their partner. He chopped downward with the Colt, the barrel smashing against the back of Inuzuka’s skull. He crumpled to the floor next to the sofa. He touched his hair and his fingers came away wet and red.

“Get off your ass, damn waste..”

Inuzuka shook the haze from his throbbing skull, but it still persisted.

Looking sheepish, he bowed his head and raised his hands in surrender. But he didn’t get to his feet. Instead, he dove for the sofa and yanked a short-barreled .38 out from under the cushions. Another 'just in case' gun.

He spun, swinging the .38 around. Quick, but not quick enough. The adversity's partner had him cold— Their weapon up and ready. Inuzuka squeezed his eyes tight and waited for the boom that would send him to hell- The gunshot never came.

If he had time to think, he would’ve guessed the pistol whipping had caused their gun to jam— Maybe a bent ejector rod. But he didn’t have time to think, only time to move. While the merc fumbled with their weapon, Inuzuka wrenched the .38 up and pulled the trigger. He shot the big man in the gut then shot them twice more in the sternum- Point blank.

All three bullets punched through their back. Blood erupted from the exit wounds and sprayed the air. They staggered like a punch-drunk boxer and fell to the carpet. Behind them, their adversity reeled backwards, their face covered in blood. Their sight went blind, and they waved the Desert Eagle wildly, pulling the trigger over and over.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

Gunshots roared in his ears. He rushed through the kitchen and burst out the back door, losing his sheet along the way. He was nude, but he didn’t care. Jagged rocks poked at his bare feet, but he didn’t care. Only one thing mattered now.. Getting the hell out of there.

 _(The vacant lot,)_ He thought in a frenzy. _(The ditch.)_

It’d been years since Inuzuka had run. His lungs burned and his chest heaved. Aching legs carried him across the road, past dilapidated adobe homes and into a vast empty plot, so dark he couldn’t see the weeds and scrub brush growing from the hard ground. But he felt them— Stabbing his feet, clawing his bare legs.

Finally, he reached the ditch. Five feet deep and pitch black, the remnants of a construction project that never saw completion. More gunshots rang out. He dropped down into the shadows, hunched low and out of sight. He gripped the .38 and held his breath.. His heart hammered against his ribs.

_(Wait for him.. Wait.)_

Gravel crunched under shoes— The sound getting louder and louder.

_(Wait.)_

The crunching stopped.

The adversity stood at the edge of the ditch, searching the vacant lot for their quarry. They were only four feet away but couldn’t see him crouched right below them.

Inuzuka's .38 boomed twice. Its muzzle flashed in the darkness. One bullet disappeared into the night sky, and the other found its mark. The adversity jerked like a dog at the end of its leash. The big pistol thudded against the ground. They staggered around the vacant lot, grasping their neck with both hands. Shaky fingers fought to keep a geyser of blood from escaping their throat.. It was a losing battle at this point.

Inuzuka climbed out of the ditch. He stood broad in moonlight, watching the man bleed out.

The gunshot wound in their neck leaked like a ruptured pipe. They applied pressure, but the blood just spurted between their fingers. Eventually, they plopped down hard on their bottom. Inuzuka shook his head. The man looked foolish, sitting there in the weeds, their fancy suit getting all dirty and bloody.

No, foolish wasn’t the word. They looked triste— Sad. Their eyes pleaded with Inuzuka, but not for mercy. That concept did not exist for men like killers. Instead, their eyes begged a question. _'How could this happen?'_

Inuzuka didn’t have an answer, so he kept his mouth shut and pulled the trigger.

Gravel dug into his bare feet as he trudged back towards the neighbourhood. In his long life, this was the second time he’d killed someone over a woman..

This time, he didn’t feel so bad about it.


	11. Specialty Challenge Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm feeling extra fancy, I've decided to create these beauties of custom Duel Noir Challenge Letters.
> 
> ~~Pretty nice, eh? Bet the VCC would be proud;;~~

Anyways, I did have the idea for the actual Duel Noir envelopes themselves, but I couldn't find the actual reference to work on, so uh, let's just say it was scrapped.  
I will describe how they LOOK like, though.  
For the custom Specialty-Based Duel Noir envelopes, they literally look almost exactly the same, except for a few minor changes:

1) The envelope is still black, but it has a little tinge of color based on the challenge letter's color. The seal's color also corresponds to the challenge letter's color.  
2) A symbol depecting the specialty will be etched onto the envelope itself. It also appears on the challenge letter's background.

For the cards, I apologize if I seemed to contradict my statements of cost = rank, these ARE examples, after all.

In order of descending specialty.


End file.
